


Ashes

by Shaish



Series: Ghosts [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, Also adorable cuties, Angst, Cuties, Dancing, Dark, Deep feelings, F/M, FUNNY HILARIOUS THINGS JUST TRUST ME, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, Graphic Violence, Just one more than what's already happened, LOTS of violence, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Pain, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Smushy mushy moments, Something kind of happens in the present but they're not really a pairing, Steve Rogers is the Winter Soldier, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Violence as a form of expression, What Have I Done, Winter Soldier Steve, Winter Soldier Steve AU, crazy violent sex, on your left, on your right, so much adorable, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 166,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaish/pseuds/Shaish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>What if Steve and Bucky both fell in 1944?</i> Part II of Ghosts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Melting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys~ So if you're new to this and just found this story, it's part II of Ghosts, and you can't really read this one without reading that one because it picks up right where that one left off.
> 
>  
> 
> aprofessorstale is betaing and without her I'd crash and burn. Did you see what I did there. [/waggles eyebrows] But yes she's awesome and without her this would be a complete mess because my writing is very thought-transient-I don't even know and it gets messy and she makes it more organized/easier to read and catches my silly typos and missing words and logistics and ideas because I'm a derp fdjskl. <3
> 
> Also there's a playlist in progress for this if you want to listen to some of it or not; https://play.spotify.com/user/shaisht/playlist/0pR8q4e4UhOcutie3t9VZZ
> 
> Here we go~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some sex and issues with sex in this chapter. Not consent issues but physical ones. So if you don't want to read people dealing with things and sex then you can skip those parts I guess? I mean. They're both willing and consenting and it's nothing long, and I actually thought it was pretty sweet because yeah I'll stop talking I don't want to give anything away.

Weaving through people walking to and from their destinations, he keeps the baseball cap pulled down to cover his face, head angled low and pace sedate but quick enough to slip through the flow of the varying paces of the people around him.

It makes his skin crawl, being so close to others. The car horns make him want to jump and the shouts and chatter make him want to claw at his head, but he keeps moving, because he needs to.

–

They'd gone to the exhibit yesterday, Steve's shield stashed in a dumpster behind a bank (an unlikely place to be discovered) since they couldn't carry it in with them, or around, for that matter. Steve had only barely kept it together and only managed to keep it together at _all_ because there were people all around (wasn’t even a slight shake to his hands), but Bucky could see the tightness around his eyes from under Steve's own cap, so he made sure they were as quick as possible. 

He would have avoided it altogether, but Steve needed to see something, something that wasn't from memory or an implant or _recent_ , something that was old and fact and _grounding_. They both did. Besides, the exhibit was scheduled to close a week after the day they went, and they wouldn't have been back to see it before then.

They'd went in at different times, but made sure to always keep one another in each other’s sights. Steve had still been reeling from Rumlow's control and Bucky was still a paranoid bastard. Steve got through the metal detectors just fine and all Bucky had to do was adjust a panel in his left arm to make it undetectable (it wasn't like his previous owners were going to let their _weapon_ get taken down by a simple _metal detector_ ), and then they were in. They kept watch of the guards, the exits, and the civilians the whole time.

They'd both stared at the gigantic, floor to ceiling banners with _Captain America's_ face on them, and the large, wall murals with _both_ of their faces plastered across the place like a billboard sign, among the other Commandos. It was jarring, seeing who they used to be yet still _were_ and seeing _what_ they were showcased like something out of legend, some piece of history that, at the time, neither of them were thinking about or even aiming to become. That wasn't why they did it, wasn't why they’d _fought_ and _died_. 

They did it because it was the thing to do, the right thing, the only real option for either of them ( _and some old, old need to do their dead fathers some semblance of **proud**_ ). It felt like being put on some pedestal they never asked for and didn't want, or feel like they deserved. It was unsettling.

They both watched Peggy Carter talk about Captain America (“ _Steve_ ”) and the Howling Commandos, watched old, young faces tell of how the Howling Commandos took down the Valkyrie and ‘defeated’ Hydra, sitting a few rows apart, Steve near the center of one and Bucky on the far end of another. They stayed for the whole video, but Steve left as soon as it was over and Bucky didn’t blame him.

They took turns staring at their old, displayed uniforms and the large glass panels displaying old, close up images of their faces and the histories of their lives ( _or what the records knew. Neither of them told of Steve helping him hot wire a car or Bucky helping him bake an apple pie on Steve's mother's birthday. Or Bucky trying to sit as still as possible so Steve could draw him and giving up ten minutes into it, causing Steve to huff an amused breath, as much of one as he could give, anyway_ ). The exhibit was impersonal, which made it both easier and harder to deal with.

They had Steve's stats before and after the serum, old, grainy, black and white video of them both joking, laughing, _smiling_ (they'd both stared and quickly turned away from _that_ one).

They'd only been there for about forty minutes, but by the end of it Steve could barely contain the shaking he'd managed to suppress the whole time and Bucky was worn out in ways he couldn't even begin to word, emotionally drained and just _exhausted_.

So the two of them left the exhibit, retrieved Steve's shield, and then left the state. They took the first plane out of the country and hid the shield in the guise of an expensive, boxed painting to get it on board with them without fuss. It didn’t need to be scanned, so no one was the wiser.

-

That was five days ago. Now they're in Paris.

Bucky continues to weave his way through the sea of people, turning down roads that lead to more and more narrow streets that could pass for alleys in New York. The amount of people slims down to a few before he's on a street that's completely empty. He takes a left and enters one of the tall, old buildings, pushing his way through a rickety door and closing it behind him, making his way up mismatched, winding staircases.

France is older than New York and Bucky can practically feel it in his bones, smell it in the air. The last time he was anywhere near it was on a mission; the last time he was anywhere near it as _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes_ was in 1943.

He gets the door to their rented room open.

Steve's exactly where he was when Bucky left two hours ago, sitting on the floor in the corner furthest from the door with his knees pulled to his chest and his eyes staring at the wall. 

He hasn't talked since the Triskelion, they've been communicating solely through their eyes, or Bucky telling him if they need to do something specific. Steve's compliant but no longer a doll, he'll listen to and follow Bucky – aware - but he's _shut down_ in ways Bucky hasn't had the time to deal with because they've been on the move. Bucky would say he's robotic if he couldn't see Steve _looking back_ at him when they make eye contact, but there's a deep fear and anger there that Bucky needs more time than they've had to address it. They haven't had a problem so far being in public, but Steve's loose in ways in public that he isn't normally. It's the Soldier's training and Bucky knows it.

He moves over to the bed sitting centered against the back wall that neither of them sleeps in and sits on its edge facing Steve, drawing Steve's eyes to him when he pulls something out of the inside pocket of his denim jacket.

“Got'em,” he says quietly, flipping over the passports and holding them out for Steve to see, knows Steve won't take them, “As of now, we're Jake Aedran and Ross Gowin, at least for the time being.”

Steve doesn't say anything, but Bucky wasn't expecting him to. He does see Steve relax the slightest bit when he talks, which is partially why he talks sometimes when they're alone, even though he doesn't need to. His voice is familiar to Steve and Steve could use as much familiarity as he can get, and something _familiar_ to fill the silence left in his head from Rumlow's shut down, Bucky's sure.

He closes the passports and slips them back into the inside jacket pocket, pulling his baseball cap off and letting it drop down on top of the bed.

“We'll leave tomorrow evening, take a train to Italy,” he says, resting his forearms on his knees as he leans forward, letting his hands hang loosely between his legs. He sees Steve tense slightly at the location, but Bucky shakes his head a little to negate it. “We're not going any place we've been before, not where anyone will know where to find us; not Stark, Natalia, Barton, Fury, Pierce, _no one_. No one will know we're coming until we want them to,” he says quietly, steel in his voice. 

Steve relaxes slightly again.

Bucky gets up after a moment and moves over to sit down next to him, leaning their shoulders together at an awkward angle. “We'll take them down,” he says quieter after a few minutes, a promise, eyes darting around the room briefly before turning his head to look at Steve. Steve turns his own and looks right back. “I'll make them pay, _we'll_ make them pay, take them all out of the world. Maybe then we can both get some real sleep.”

Steve's silent, but Bucky can see some determination of his own in the depths of blue fear swirling in Steve's eyes, so he'll take that and be content with it for the time being.

Bucky leans his head down after a moment to settle it against Steve's shoulder and closes his eyes, feels Steve shift a moment later and rest his own head on Bucky's. 

The last thing he feels is warm breath in his hair before he manages to get to sleep.

-

He wakes two hours later, but can tell Steve somehow got himself to sleep, so he doesn't move, lets Steve get as much rest as he can. 

They're both going to need it.

–

Steve's body gives a _jerk_ and then locks while his eyes shoot open and Bucky's awake again in an instant. Steve's gone back to being quiet during his nightmares, doesn't scream or even make a sound, just goes rigid. 

A part of Bucky's brain is telling him it's been an hour since he last woke and that he's been asleep for half of it, another part of it is just glad that Steve is managing to get any sleep at all. 

Steve didn't sleep for three days after the incident with Rumlow, which Bucky assumed was because he was afraid that when he woke up he'd be locked inside his own head again. He probably would've gone without longer if Bucky hadn't convinced him to try. 

And Bucky gets it, he does, but they're both still human and they both still need sleep. Bucky didn't push, didn't make him, didn't even bring it up or look at him when Steve would sit up all night staring at various points of the myriad of rooms they’ve been in so far since they left the states, because _he got it_. 

But this, this is better even if it's still not _good_. He'll take what he can get.

He's noticed that Steve sleeps better with Bucky next to him, too. 

They've both been forced into cryo and cages for far too long in their lives to want to go back to it, even if sometimes their bodies crave it out of habit, expect it out of routine. Bucky still wakes up cold sometimes. He thinks Steve does, too.

Steve doesn't go back to sleep after he wakes and Bucky doesn't either. Instead, they both sit in silence, Bucky watching the light slowly fade beyond the closed window on the opposite end of the room and Steve going wherever he does when his gaze gets faraway.

Bucky presses their arms together a little tighter after a few minutes and feels Steve shift slightly and do the same in return a moment later. Bucky lets out a breath he didn't realize he’d been holding and keeps watching the sun go down.

–

In hindsight, a train might not have been his best decision, but he honestly hadn't thought it would be a problem until they were ten feet away from one. Steve's locked up next to him and Bucky can see him trying to force his body to relax. 

To be fair, Bucky's not doing much better. His breath has lodged itself somewhere up in his throat and refuses to come out while his heart is beating ten miles a minute in his ears. The only thing stopping them from being stared at now is the fact that they're taking a night train. The amount of people around to watch is few and far between.

Bucky forces the breath out in a cough and reaches over to grab Steve's left hand, his shield still disguised in the large, narrow box and held tight in Steve's right. He gives the hand a firm squeeze to get Steve's attention.

It works, Steve giving a slight, full body jerk before his head snaps towards Bucky and blue eyes lock with his, wide and afraid and _confused_ , because they've been on trains since they fell and this has never been a problem. It was supposed to be trained and electrically burned out of them.

But they've got their memories now and now it is _definitely_ a problem.

The programming is overridden at this point, so now instead of the programming being the problem it's their _memories_ that is. Bucky can practically feel the wind at his back and nothing below him as the train speeds on, cold metal gripped tight in two flesh and blood hands instead of one and Steve edging out after him.

“It'll be fine,” Bucky chokes out after a minute, voice wavering and a little far away, breath reedy like Steve’s used to be after a coughing fit. Steve just shakes his head rapidly. “It _will,_ ” he insists, forcing his voice to come out closer to calm, lower, “It will. Steve, it will, and they won't expect us to take a train because of the exact reason we're stuck standing here. We have to.”

Steve clenches his teeth tight, jaw locking with the strain as his wide eyes dart back to their obstacle.

His own eyes dart to it before they jump back to Steve. 

Bucky swallows thickly. 

“Steve, _hey_ , look at me,” he says quietly. Steve's eyes slowly make their way back to him and Bucky can see how hard it is for Steve to do. “Twelve hours. Just Twelve hours and then we'll be in Rome and we can walk anywhere else we have to go.”

One of the train's crew calls for last boarding passengers and Bucky tightens his grip on Steve's hand, reassuring them both. 

“I don't want to either, but we have to,” he says, “We need to stay ahead of everyone, throw them off our scent. You can do this. _We_ can do this _._ ”

Steve swallows as he stares at him for a long moment before gripping Bucky's hand tightly in return, squaring his shoulders like he's going off to war, _again_ ( _he's not far off_ ), and taking a steadying breath.

They both take a step forward at the same time and Bucky boards the train first with Steve following behind. He wants to make this as different from before as possible.

He takes another breath.

–

Steve lets Bucky lead the way onto the train, one look and they understand each other. 

This has to be different or it'll never work.

Contrary to popular belief, Steve doesn't always take the lead, especially not now. He's been known to, yes, but now Bucky's his light and Steve's the shadow chasing him across the country, and he's fine with it if it's Bucky. He doesn't mind following him nearly as much as people who read their history like the _Bible_ might think he would. Even before the war, half the time Steve was always following Bucky, either succeeding or _trying_.

They take one of the empty passenger seats - with doors to section them off - and slip in, Bucky closing the door and locking it behind them then pulling the view hider down before turning around.

Steve sits as far away from the room's window view of the outside as he can, one hand clenched on his knee and the other on the box hiding his shield at his side, breaths coming fast. He doesn't look up when Bucky sits down across from him on the other bench seat. The cargo shelf above them is empty, which hopefully means no other passengers in this compartment. They have nothing to them but the clothes they wear, the passports and cash stashed in their coats, and Steve's shield, which he keeps gripped in hand, resting on the floor and leaned to his right against the seat. They haven’t needed much else, not yet.

“ _We'll be fine, we'll be fine, **it'll be fine**_ ,” he hears Bucky mumble to himself a few minutes after the train begins to lurch forward and they _both_ jump. Steve glances up to find Bucky with his head in his hands, bent down, body hunched forward at the waist and face obscured by his hair, eyes trained on the floor.

Steve swallows, mouth dry from fear, and forces his breaths to slow. It takes a lot, more than he'd like to admit, but he does it, because Bucky needs him. 

And it's probably unhealthy to put so much of why he does what he does on one person, but at least half of what he's always done has revolved around Bucky and it doesn't look like that's going to change any time soon, so he's not going to even bother trying. Besides, Bucky's been carrying Steve's weight for the past few days straight on top of the eighty-five years and then some that they've known each other; Steve can't let it stay that way.

It takes him a moment for the hand on his knee to unclench, takes a few more before he can actually get it to move. He lifts it toward Bucky, held out and offered across the space between them.

It takes a minute for Bucky to notice, and when he does the mantra stops and he just stares at it for a few minutes straight before glancing up at Steve. His eyes are still a little wide from fear but also a little curious, a little surprised, a little _hopeful_.

He must figure out what Steve's trying to do and how much it's costing him because understanding darts across his features and then his left hand is coming up and gripping Steve's tight. It's not a hard grip but it's firm, and Steve returns it just as much. If anything happens and either of them gets blasted out of _this_ train car, one's not going anywhere without the other (again).

Bucky's shoulders relax slightly and he lets out a slightly calmer breath.

Steve manages to do the same.

–

They arrive twelve hours later like Bucky said, hands gripped together the whole way and only letting go when it's time to get off. It's a bustling city, even at night, lights guiding the way in every direction and the sounds of fountains, chatter, and footsteps filling the air, even though it's getting cold. Fall is closing in quick so the tourist population is less than it would be in the Spring or Summer, but there's still enough of them and enough cameras flashing to set both Steve and Bucky on edge. They slip their way through crowds and out of populated centers as quickly as possible.

They've both been to Rome before, killed a few people here, so the back streets are familiar to them in their more quiet, winding intricacy, much more than the crowded streets and laughs and smiles, at least for Steve.

Bucky had missions that required more interaction with people, Steve knows that, has _seen_ that, putting on a smile or a laugh and the appearance of dancing the night away. Steve was never sent on those types of missions, none to interact, only acting as backup, sniper, or muscle, and now he's more capable of understanding why. 

He's too recognizable, too distinct, even. The Winter Soldier could blend in with the best of them, but in a way, Steve is like Natasha, striking in ways that are too memorable and too easily noticed, on top of too historical and well known and _remembered_. Even if he miraculously did go unnoticed, it was too high of a risk and so they kept him contained or out of sight or used him as a distraction method. Regardless, he and Bucky were always a brutally efficient team, they complimented each other even when they couldn't remember one another, or themselves.

They keep their baseball caps low as they walk, staying a fair distance apart to keep from drawing attention, appearing as strangers coincidentally heading in the same direction. Steve keeps his hold relaxed and casual on the box containing his shield, even though he wants to tighten it. It's not all that strange to be seen carting around a painting in Europe, and he's not going anywhere without it, and they both know it. Besides, if they get attacked, they'd both prefer to have it with them.

It takes them a little bit to find a quiet building in a, miraculously, silent part of the city. Bucky pays for a room while Steve waits in the shadows outside, stars above and cobblestone below.

Bucky makes his way up and opens one of the only windows Steve's assuming the room has to notify him which room Bucky's in. From there, it doesn't take long for Steve to scale the building, even with having to stop now and then to set the box somewhere or wedge briefly into a ledge, moving as quickly and quietly as possible and constantly checking to make sure no one's watching before jumping and pulling himself up.

Bucky takes the box with his shield once Steve reaches the window's ledge so he can pull himself inside, closing the window immediately after. The curtains are quickly closed and then they're locked away in a tower in a pulsing, thriving city.

He hears Bucky let out a breath after scanning the room, making sure it's secure. Bucky’s the only one Steve trusts, so Steve doesn't check the room himself. Anyone else, and he would.

“We'll stay here for a couple days, gather some equipment and then move on,” Bucky says quietly, the walls are thin and they're not going to risk speaking up, “We'll start tracking Hydra through the safe houses we know. We're bound to find something.”

Steve nods before pulling the baseball cap off and dropping it down onto the single bed against the left wall where Bucky's put his boxed up shield, shedding his coat and tossing it on top soon after, dark blue stark on the light wood. He strips his shirt and pants off as he heads for the bathroom, tossing them on the bed as he goes, and hears Bucky do the same as he follows a moment later.

The light's dim compared to ones in the Tower, but still bright in the dark of the room when Steve turns it on, stopping in front of the mirror. His hair is slightly longer compared to the last time he saw it, and his face is a little scruffier. 

Bucky steps into the glow of the light next to him and Steve's gaze shifts on the mirror. 

Bucky looks about the same, though his hair's a little longer than it was.

He feels the shift in proximity as Bucky leans in and presses a light kiss to a scar on his shoulder, eyes closing while Steve watches him in the mirror. Steve turns his head slightly when Bucky moves away and they stare at each other for a long minute.

Bucky moves first, pressing lips lightly to Steve's chin before moving to his cheeks, hands coming up slow to gently grip the sides of his head. He brings it down a little to press his lips to Steve’s forehead.

Steve closes his eyes for that brief moment before he opens them again, and then Bucky's looking at his lips and they're meeting halfway.

It might feel strange in a different life, a life where his world doesn't revolve solely around one person and he's not as fucked up as he is, as they both are. But here, in this silent room, save for their breathing and the quiet mechanical whir of a metal arm shifting, it's comfort and it's familiar and it's the only thing Steve _has_ anymore. That's not to say he's like this with Bucky because he has no choice, because he has nothing left, but Bucky is all he knows and he welcomes it, _wants_ it, and he hasn't wanted anything in a long time. Bucky is home, Bucky has always been and meant home for Steve. He can barely remember a time when Bucky _hasn't_ meant that to him.

Bucky moves him carefully like he's fragile and an old part of Steve hates it, wants to say that he's _fine_ , but Steve knows he isn't, he's so far from fine it's laughable, so Steve lets him. He lets Bucky press him back against a wall, their lips still locked and sliding together, slowly getting more heated, more aggressive. He grips a hand in Bucky's hair when Bucky lifts him up against the wall a few moments later, arm whirring in the silence as Steve wraps bare legs around Bucky's waist and Bucky supports Steve’s weight with his own arms and legs. Bucky presses in close and Steve can feel him growing hard between the two of them, Bucky's tongue sliding past Steve's lips and into his mouth, a welcome heat, one of his own hands finding its way to Bucky's shoulder, the other further up into his hair.

They continue for a few minutes before they both notice it, and Bucky leans back slightly at the same time Steve does.

“I _can't_ ,” Steve lets out after a few moments of them staring at each other, like admitting defeat. His shoulders sag slightly against the wall, frustration low in his chest. “ _Bucky, I'm-_ ”

“ _Don't_ apologize,” Bucky cuts him off, eyes and voice quiet but fierce before softening, bringing his right hand up to cup Steve's cheek gently, lovingly, his left shifting to support more of Steve's weight, “Not for this, not for _anything_. You have nothing to apologize for. _Nothing_.” Steve swallows before closing his eyes, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on the curve between Bucky's neck and shoulder.

They stay like that for a few minutes - Steve loses track of how many and manages to keep his brain from counting - before Bucky says quietly, softly, “We don't have to.”

Steve doesn't move, just closes his eyes against Bucky's warm skin.

“We've never had to and I won't make you. It's never something we've ever needed to do,” Bucky finishes.

Steve shakes his head slightly, feels the prickle of tears starting to well in his eyes.

He hears Bucky let out a quiet sigh a moment later, right hand shifting up to bury fingers in his hair. “I know,” Bucky says, voice still quiet, “Just another thing they've taken away from us,” his voice goes hard and Steve slides his fingers out of Bucky's hair to grip the back of Bucky's neck, just holding on. “It won't stay this way, I won't let it, you know I won't,” Bucky says after a few minutes. Steve's lips twitch against Bucky's skin and he makes sure Bucky can feel it. Bucky's fingers tighten in his hair in response, sliding down to grip the back of his neck a second later in return. “It's fine like this,” Bucky near whispers. Steve can feel him shift, Bucky's lips meeting the skin between his neck and shoulder. “I don't need anything else.”

Steve pulls back after another few minutes of staying still and Bucky leans back as he does, looking up at him.

Steve unlocks his legs, trusting Bucky to bare his weight (he does), and Bucky helps him lower his feet to the floor. But Steve doesn't stop, slides down to the old tile onto his knees in one smooth motion; looks up.

Bucky's eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging slightly open. “ _Steve_ ,” he chokes out quietly, warm fingers finding their way back to the side of Steve's head, “ _You don't have to-_ ”

Steve shakes his head slightly, cutting him off, staring up at him until Bucky _gets it._

And then Bucky's nodding and Steve's leaning forward, one hand coming up to hold Bucky's hip and the other to hold _him_. 

Bucky's gone soft since they stopped, but Steve slowly drags the flat of his tongue from the bottom to the tip while looking up at him, and it doesn't take long to change that. Steve might not be able to react the same right now, but he wants to do this for Bucky, and he _can_ do what he wants now, so he does, for both of them.

Bucky's warm fingers dig pleasantly into his hair while the metal ones curl into a fist at Bucky's side to keep them from causing any harm. Steve's fingers leave temporary bruises on Bucky's hip. He only takes the tip of Bucky’s cock into his mouth, inexperienced and not ready, and Bucky takes what Steve offers like it's water in a desert. He never asks for more and never pushes, because Bucky has never done that and Steve knows that he never would.

The quiet sounds and hitched breaths Bucky makes because of _him_ are all the pleasure Steve really needs right now, and he takes the sounds gladly and soaks them in, makes sure he'll _remember_ them because Bucky's making them and they're _Steve's_ to keep.

Bucky comes with his name on his lips but forces himself to stay quiet, eyes locked with Steve's the whole time like there's nothing else he'd rather look at. It makes Steve's heart beat a little faster and his breath get caught in his throat - nothing like when it happened with the train - and for the first time in seventy years, Steve’s cheeks feel a little warm.

He pulls off and makes sure the cum lands on him, nowhere else so he can wash it off and not in his mouth because it's too soon. They can't and won't leave any traces of themselves behind, wherever they stay. Besides, this, too, belongs to him. _Bucky_ belongs to him, and the look in Bucky's eyes says he _knows_.

Steve gets up off the floor and Bucky pulls him into a kiss and it's gentle, soft, chaste and broken but trying to fix itself, trying to fix each other as much as they can. They haven't torn at each other since the tuning fork but neither of them think that problem is gone, though it's more manageable now, something they can push down when it tries to rear its head and force it into some sense of submission. They've both been too stressed to let it indulge itself, and for now, they're fine with that.

Bucky runs his metal fingers through the mess on Steve's chest, brings them up to Steve's mouth and Steve licks them clean. It's the first time he's tasted it and it's strange: salty, a little bitter, but not entirely unpleasant. He brings his own hand up, drawing his fingers through the mess as well before holding them up for Bucky. 

He's not sure if it's Bucky's first time tasting it, but he knows it's Bucky's first time tasting his _own_ because his expression goes curious before he leans in to lick some up, and then processing when he does, slightly amused as he swallows. It makes Steve's lips twitch in the closest thing to a smile he's been able to muster since what happened.

They shower together after and wash the traces of Bucky away, ungracefully shaking the water off when they're done because there aren't any towels, and redressing in the bedroom.

They sit next to each other on the floor in the furthest corner of the room and take turns sleeping throughout the night. Steve gets very little, which isn't surprising, but it's enough. The nightmares are the same as before: missions, memories twisted and warped. The new ones are just darkness and the sound of Rumlow's voice taking up all of the space in his head. It terrifies him.

When Steve finally tells Bucky this the next night, Bucky's fists tighten, the quiet whir of metal the only sound in the room, calming in its familiarity. He looks at Steve before pulling him into a hug and they don't say anything. Their actions have always said more than words and that hasn't changed in eighty-five years.

Bucky goes out that night for weapons and supplies (“ _This is Rome, it's a large city, it won't be hard getting at least some of what I'm looking for_ ”), making sure Steve's awake before he goes. They've never tried leaving while the other is asleep, it's unwise and just plain stupid and they're not going to risk it. Besides, neither of them would be able to handle waking up and not knowing where the other is; it's terrifying in its own way.

He comes back with supplies and guns and knives. It's not a huge arsenal, but there's a fair amount stashed away in the large, black duffel he carries in with him. When Bucky opens the bag on top of the bed, he pulls out something else that takes Steve by surprise and offers it to him. 

It's a pencil and a cheap sketchbook.

Steve's eyes widen and he stares, takes a long time to accept them, to _process_ , long enough for Bucky to start to falter. When Bucky's hand starts to lower, Steve practically lunges for them and ends up tackling Bucky to the bed in his eagerness, Bucky letting out a muffled shout of surprise and delight. He hasn't heard Bucky make a sound like that in years so Steve relishes it, and a smile actually manages to fit itself onto his face. It knocks the breath out of Bucky before he's smiling back. He's better at it than Steve, always has been, and Steve's fingers twitch with the urge to draw it.

Bucky's going through their new weaponry piece by piece in the morning at the small table next to the window, staying out of sight of the glass and in the shadows created by the dulled, natural light, and Steve's sitting cross-legged on the bed with his pencil in hand, sketchbook open to the first page.

He can't really draw Bucky, not if he wants to keep it, they can't afford to leave any trace of themselves behind, not yet, maybe not ever, so he draws a tiger instead, because that's what Bucky is now, might always have been. It's hunched over like Bucky at the table, but instead of guns and knives and weapons it's looking down at a chunk of melting ice, stripe designs running sharp and smooth along its body. It's striking, Steve thinks, striking and deadly in subtle ways, like Bucky: the curve of a talon ( _the curves of flesh and metal fingers_ ), the position of the tail ( _the smooth and deadly curve of his spine_ ), the angle of the ears ( _the way his hair falls in the shadows_ ), but the eyes are a different story.

The eyes are warm and kind and somehow capable of loving, even now, eyes Steve has seen close enough for him to willingly let them drown him. 

The eyes staring down are what’s melting the melting ice in front of the tiger. The ice inside of Steve.


	2. Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, I have, unfortunately, never been out of the states. I don't think I've even been past like, three states. So most of this is probably vague on where they're at. I'm trying to look up pictures and maps to help, and aprofessorstale has been to a few places so I'm totally going to ask about them, but if I get anything wrong it's because I am sadly lacking in the vacation department (vacation? what's a vacation? HA.). So if there's something that anyone who's actually been to any of these places or lives in any of these places or _knows_ someone who lives in any of these places and you see something weird or wrong or off just let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. That goes for any place they go really. I've never been to New York, DC, Europe, etc. So I'm sorry if I mess anything up. :( Thank you!

They reconsider walking and end up taking another night train out of Rome. Walking is inefficient, and the places they know they need to go are too far between each stop to walk to and still make good enough time. So they board trains and switch at stops until they make it into Switzerland, keeping a grip on each others' hand the whole way. It's slowly getting easier, very slowly.

They had checked the Hydra safe house in Rome before they left, but it yielded next to nothing. It was a stop for active ops and there didn't seem to be any currently going on. Bucky had raided the batch of computers while Steve checked the rest of the abandoned building, finding little to nothing. Bucky said he found a few files on their past operations, both solo and joint, and that a few other ops were scheduled for next week, but other than that, there was nothing they could use, so they set fire to the old abandoned building and left.

Their expertly forged passports and IDs got them from place to place well enough, Bucky going as 'Jake' and Steve as 'Ross’. They made each other repeat it at least three times while looking in a mirror and five more times with a built up history to go with the names, so they had things straight (“ _My name's Jake Aedran and I'm going to Switzerland to see my sister who's getting married in three days; her name is Andrea and she makes amazing designer cakes for a small town bakery;” “My name's Ross Gowin and I'm going to Switzerland to see my brother who just got a big promotion at a law firm; I had to leave my golden retriever at home with my neighbor Jaramiah and I'm going to miss his furry mug.”_ ).

It's in Switzerland that they run into their first bout of trouble, but, surprisingly, maybe even _joyously_ , it's not with Hydra.

“Bucky, I don't think that's how that's supposed to-”

“Steve, no, it's fine. See, it goes like-”

“Bucky, no, it doesn't,” he cuts in, “I read the instructions and I know you didn't, and I know for a fact that it doesn't go like that,” Steve finishes with a slight frown. 

He's tried to start talking more as of a few days ago, he can't let fear keep holding him back and locking him up inside of himself. He's gotten better at it, what progress he'd made before quickly trying to retake root. He could see Bucky worrying sometimes even if he was trying to hide it, and he can't keep doing that to him, either (and Bucky has lost some of the tension in his shoulders and a lot of the forced-relaxed posture he’d pushed on himself to make it seem like he _wasn't_ worried).

“Steve,” Bucky starts, holding up the package, “I can disassemble and reassemble a long range rifle in one hundred and three seconds. I'm pretty sure I can make _popcorn_ in a _microwave_.”

“Bucky,” Steve starts, with an old, old patronizing tone that he _remembers_ used to drive Bucky _nuts_. Turns out it still does, and he might be using it on purpose. “We were _both_ trained to disassemble and reassemble a long range rifle. We were _both_ trained to use a computer. We were _not_ trained in how to use a microwave. Please just try heating it on the stove like a normal person from the 1940's.”

Bucky scoffs before schooling his expression into as blank and unimpressed as he can make it (it's impressive, but Steve will never tell him that), pops open the microwave door, tosses the bag in, slams it shut, and presses a few of the number buttons at random before pushing start, all in a flash too quick for Steve to stop (actually he probably could, but he knows this is going to blow up in Bucky's face, probably literally, and he doesn't exactly want to miss that), a slow, smug grin taking over his face.

Ten minutes and an increasingly bored Bucky later, just like Steve thought it would, the popcorn bag catches fire in the microwave and the burnt smell is flooding the small apartment with black smoke. Steve runs to the only window the place has and flings it open, almost tearing it off its hinges in his haste while Bucky lets out a stream of loud curses and pries the microwave door open with his metal hand, reaching in with the same hand to grab the bag and run it over to the window, throwing it out with enough force for it to land on the roof across the street, flipping his middle finger at it immediately after.

“Fuck you, too!” he yells out the window, and Steve shakes with silent laughter, doubling over with the force of it before it comes out loud and unrestrained, taking them both by surprise.

Steve ends up on his knees on the floor, arms wrapped around his middle and tears streaming down his face while he laughs, breaths coming hard and rapid. He can hear Bucky start laughing next to him, unable to hold it in and just as surprised at his own reaction. It's hard to see through the tears, but Steve can see the surprise on his face.

Bucky ends up on the floor with him and they both collapse next to each other against the wall under the window, leaning into each other as their laughter slowly dies down and they both try to catch their breaths.

“I haven't-” Bucky gets out between deep breaths, “I haven't laughed like that since at least 1943.”

They both look at each other for a moment before they burst out laughing again. It shouldn't be funny, but somehow it _really_ _is_.

Steve wipes at his eyes when their laughter starts to die down again, leaning his head back against the wall and taking in deep breaths of air.

“I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that without it turning into a wheeze,” Bucky says a few minutes later, wiping at his own eyes.

Steve laughs a little more, biting on his lower lip to stop another rise of it in his chest.

“I don't think I have either,” he replies a little quietly a few moments later, letting out a deep, honestly relaxed, _sigh_. He glances over to his right to find Bucky staring at him, a huge grin on his face. 

It doesn't overlap with his memories of Bucky like it used to after the cube, most of them settled and slotted into place, if not necessarily in chronological order (the Soldier memories and the Winter Soldier memories will never really be in the right order, but there's nothing either of them can do about that), but the grin does make Bucky look seventy years younger. 

Steve's lips curve up into a small smile in response which just makes Bucky blink and grin even wider, nudging Steve with his metal shoulder.

“I missed you, punk,” Bucky says after a few minutes, grin calmed down into an honest, slightly worried smile ( _worried that he's ruined the moment, worried that he's pushed too far_ ).

“I missed me, too,” Steve replies, choosing to ignore the past for just this moment and managing to put a little smugness into his voice.

Bucky _balks_ before letting out a bark of a laugh, shoving him with a hand, enough to push Steve sideways a little.

“Did you just make a joke? You fucking did, didn't you, you bastard. Come here-” Bucky says, pulling Steve over and putting him into an easily escapable headlock ( _so Steve doesn't panic, because he will_ ), rubbing flesh and bone knuckles into the top of his head, smashing and messing up his short, blond hair.

Steve lets out a grunt and squirms, wiggling out of Bucky's grip with little effort before pushing Bucky down, fingers aiming for his sides and dancing.

Bucky lets out a _laugh_ and squirms while Steve tickles him, tears of laughter building in his eyes as he tries to claw at the floor and crawl away.

“Steve- _Steve stop- **Fuck** -_” Bucky lets out between laughs, practically writhing on the floor.

Steve cracks a small grin before pulling back, still leaning over him on his hands and knees while letting Bucky take a moment to catch his breath. He reaches down when Bucky's breaths start to calm and runs a fingertip along Bucky's fuzzy jaw, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky raises one back, legs sprawled. “I think I look _roguish_ ,” he says with a cocky grin, tilting his head slightly.

Steve lets out a huff before shifting back and sitting back down on the floor.

Bucky gets up shortly after him, sitting loosely cross-legged in front of him.

He doesn't say anything about it because they both already know it. Not shaving helps them look less like how they used to and therefore harder to track and less easy to spot.

A minute later, Bucky lets out a slightly disappointed sigh, glancing in the direction of the microwave. “I guess we're not having popcorn tonight.”

Steve makes a noncommittal sound, turning his head to look over at the microwave as well before glancing back at Bucky out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching.

Bucky spots it, narrowing his eyes ( _don't say it_ ).

Steve raises his eyebrows ( _say what?_ ).

Bucky gives him a _look_ ( _you know damn well what_ ).

Steve's lips slowly curve up into a small smirk. He opens his mouth-

Bucky moves quick as a snake and slides a finger between Steve's lips, making Steve pull back off it with a noise he's never heard _anyone_ make before.

Bucky just smirks, wiggling his wet finger at him.

Steve slowly turns towards him, hands rising just as slowly as he turned before he starts moving his fingers, claw-like and wiggling.

Bucky's eyes widen ( _you wouldn't-_ )

Steve's eyes narrow as a slightly bigger smirk finds its way to his lips ( _Oh, I would)_.

Steve _lunges_ \- 

Bucky _squawks_ as his back hits the floor with what, later, Steve calls a _shriek_ when his fingers find Bucky's sides again (“ _I did **not** shriek!_”)

They go to the Hydra safe house located on the edge of the city the next night. Things don’t go as smoothly.

–

They discuss it before they head out, plan exit strategies should something go wrong and where to meet up if they end up separated. It doesn't take long and their years of training before and during the war, and after they fell, takes over with their instincts once they move out under the cover of night, breaths fogging in front of them in the air. The only sign they exist at all.

They stash the large, painting box behind a building three blocks away from their destination so Steve can come back for it and hide his shield again once they're done, a brief and far enough stop away to keep it close to their destination but unrelated to anything that might happen once they're there, should things escalate.

Steve takes the front of the building, the outside again covered in an illusion of abandonment. His shield makes him the best choice for a frontal assault and confrontation, while Bucky takes the back, third story window.

They each started counting once they split up, and once they both reach their internal five minute mark, they quietly infiltrate.

The safe house is active and currently in use, and once Steve's through the front door he's spotted. There's a second's pause for evaluation before the shooting starts.

The only thing keeping all of the gunfire from drawing attention is the fact that the building is in a rundown area on the outskirts of the city.

There's five armed agents firing at him while three others are stationed at the computers lining the far wall to his left. He manages to take out two of the armed agents with the force of his shield, flinging them into the back wall with enough force to crack their skulls ( _he can hear bone giving way with the force of collision_ ), though it costs him a bullet to his left leg and arm from the other three mid-turn.

Steve uses his shield to deflect those bullets before he hears one of the guns jam and takes advantage of it.

He rushes in close to slam his shield into the agent with the jammed gun and uppercut the second agent before side kicking him in the direction of the third. It's enough of a distraction to throw the aim off of and distract the third agent.

Steve throws his shield at the third while he moves in close to the second, elbowing him in the solar plexus before slamming his palm up under the agent’s chin while his shield hits the third square in the chest.

He can hear gunfire coming from the floors up above.

He refocuses.

After catching his shield on the rebound off of the third, now unconscious agent, he runs over to the computers, pushes the wheeled chair of one of the researches hard with a boot to make them slide into the other two with a surprised sound and halting whatever process they were in the middle of to delete all of the information stored on the systems.

The three collide with various noises and protests of shock and fear and Steve's quick to pounce, takes a quick fist and shield to their faces and knocks them unconscious before moving back over to start going through the systems.

The gunfire's shifted closer, coming from the floor above him rather than further up, now. 

Steve focuses back on the screens, typing quickly. 

If he could take out the eight on the first floor, Bucky's more than capable of taking out the ones on the second and third. He's always been more agile than Steve, harder to pin down. He'll be fine.

It only takes a few more minutes for the gunfire to stop right before Steve hears a few thuds from above ( _bodies landing on the floor_ ), and he's halfway through sorting through the remaining data when he hears Bucky's familiar bootsteps round the corner into the room, purposefully loud enough to let him know it's _Bucky_ and that he's _there_.

He sees Bucky's attention shift out of the corner of his eye before heading over to the three unconscious agents on the floor, leaning down slightly to get a better look while Steve keeps his attention on the monitors, quiet but rapid clicks filling the silence.

They don't talk because the room is being recorded, but he feels Bucky come in close to stand at his side ( _they wore their hats, it kept them from being identified on the streets but for the Hydra base it was more than likely useless_ ), leaning down slightly to catch Steve's gaze, a question in his eyes ( _you left them alive_?)

Steve's eyebrows draw together slightly before he gives the smallest of shrugs and shifts his attention back to the screens. He'll think about that decision later.

Bucky leans closer after a moment to get a better look at the information quickly scrolling up on the screens, eyes scanning quickly while Steve types rapidly.

They both lean in close to block the monitors from view with their bodies when Steve finds the files they're looking for, or at least something related to what they're looking for, making sure the cameras they know are stationed around the rooms don't catch it. 

It was a risk they had to take, the cameras. All of them are wired individually as a precaution, so they couldn't just take them all offline at once without alerting the agents inside.

And Hydra's going to know who's after them sooner or later, it's just going to end up being sooner than either of them would prefer.

Steve types in the rest of the unfinished deletion program to finish removing all files from the systems once they've both gotten a good look at the files they want, committed them to memory, wiping the originals so no one can see which ones they looked at in particular. 

They leave quickly after that. Steve doesn't limp even with a bullet in his leg and he doesn't wince at the pain in his arm, his training won't let him. He notices Bucky look at him a few times on their way to the alley where they stashed the box, but he doesn't touch or coddle Steve like he's a child. They've both been through worse, and even with their memories, this is nothing in comparison. Bucky, maybe more than anyone, knows what Steve's been through and what he's capable of, and he won't debase that by treating him like it never happened _now_ just because they can remember. Maybe even more so _because_ they remember.

They retrieve the stashed box and Steve slips his shield back inside, careful not to get any of the small traces of blood he's got sliding down his arm and leg on it, and then they head back to the room _Steve_ paid for this time.

Once they're back, Steve immediately sets the box down while Bucky heads for the duffel bag full of weapons and extra necessities he left on the small table near the window, pulling out a med kit he picked up at a corner drugstore in Rome and walking back over. Steve quickly sits on the bed, trying to get as little blood on the floor as possible. It might be a lost cause trying to keep the trace amounts located to the burnable sheets, but he's going to try.

He sheds his coat and pants as quickly as possible, feels the bed dip as Bucky sits next to him, one leg pulled up on the bed at Steve’s left.

They don't say anything and Steve doesn't make a sound as Bucky pulls the bullet out of his left arm, cleans the wound and stitches it closed before wrapping it and moving on to the bullet in his left leg, repeating the process. It'll heal quickly because of the serum; the stitches will come out tomorrow night.

Bucky gets up and moves back over to the duffel when he's finished, pulls out a clean shirt and pair of jeans and tosses them on the bed before putting the med kit away. Steve slips his hat off before slipping into them, careful not to pull on the stitches too much and bleed on the clean clothes. They only bought an extra set each because of the likely case of this scenario taking place.

Bucky comes back over while Steve’s pulling the shirt on, sits back down on Steve’s left and looks straight ahead. Steve glances at him a few moments after pulling the shirt down and sitting in silence, keeping his voice low, “ _'Project Insight.'_ ” It was the only useful clue they got out of all the data, aside from what they already knew.

Bucky gives a slight nod before letting out a sigh, looking back at him. “And we have no idea what it is,” he says, just as quiet, looking down at his hands for a moment, “After our time, or maybe we were never supposed to be part of it.”

“Or...” Steve says after a minute, keeping his voice down.

Bucky lets out another sigh, taking his hat off for a moment to run a hand back through his loose bangs.

“Yeah,” he starts, looking ahead to the wall, “Or the person we were _loaned out to_ ,” he says with a brief sneer, “Fucked up and got us caught because of shitty planning and we _were_ supposed to be a part of it. It seems the most likely, doesn't it.”

Steve lets out his own sigh, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling. “We might have to go back to the states then,” he says a few minutes later, lowering his head back down to look back over at Bucky.

Blue-gray eyes lock with his, eyebrows slightly pinched. “Eventually. Yeah.”

They're both quiet for a few minutes after that, each lost in their own thoughts.

A huff of breath from Bucky eventually breaks the silence.

“Just when I was getting used to living like we used to all over again,” he says half jokingly, but Steve can hear the serious half, too.

He reaches over with a hand to nudge the side of Bucky's leg gently with his knuckles, careful not to put too much pressure on the injured arm in general; understanding.

Bucky looks back at him, a small, sad smile on his face.

Bucky gets up after another moment of silence and starts pulling up the corners of the bedding. Steve gets up and pulls off the other half, letting Bucky collect the whole of it once they're done and wad it up in his arms, heading into the bathroom to dump it all into the shower. Steve hears the strike of a match before the quiet sound of fire catching, Bucky coming back out shortly after.

Bucky heads for the duffel bag, zipping it closed before shouldering it, baseball cap on and hair still pulled back in a ponytail. Steve's eyes follow him the entire time.

“Well, let's go,” Bucky announces quietly, moving for the door, “They'll be coming soon.” Steve slides his own hat back on and grabs the box that contains his shield.

“Now why would I want to miss that,” he says quietly, following him out.

He hears Bucky huff a _laugh_.

“God I missed your sarcasm.”

The door closes quietly behind them.


	3. Taking You Dancing

They dart around after that, heading next to Poland, Norway, then moving back down to Slovakia before moving on to China. By mutual agreement, they avoid Austria. They try to keep their destinations and travel times erratic, not moving in a straight, predictable line and not traveling at a constant speed – switching between trains and planes – to remain unpredictable. Hydra no doubt knows who they are and that they're the ones raiding the safe houses, but Bucky and Steve make it as hard as possible to figure out just where they'll hit next.

Sometimes they find more bits and pieces of information on the whole of Hydra's plan, “ _Project Insight_ ,” but for the most part there's little new information that they learn related to what they're looking for. Whatever it is, Hydra is keeping it deep under wraps, which means it's big, and that's worrying. Neither of them knows the scale of the project, but they can both guess that it's going to be huge. They need more information.

It's while they're in China that they run into a familiar face, at a Hydra safe house of all places.

The safe house is, like most of them have been, in a more run down part of the city, some place that doesn't have very much people traffic but still enough to keep it inconspicuous. There's graffiti littered throughout the outside of the building and more than a few of the windows are boarded up, but inside it's cleaner, uncluttered, and active to boot.

Steve took the middle floor ( _the fourth, the building has eight_ ), moving from the middle up while Bucky came in through the first this time. They're moving quickly, they have to, all of the more heavily armed agents are only acting as a distraction while the ones stationed at computers are on order to immediately delete any and all information at the first sign of intrusion or provocation. The layouts vary safe house to safe house, some are the same and others are different in where they choose to house the computers. For this building, the computers are on the top floor, which is why Steve infiltrated closer to the top this time instead of Bucky.

He's just cleared the seventh floor and can hear Bucky in combat a floor below him when an _explosion_ shakes the last floor above him, dust and small chunks of rubble dislodging from newly formed and old cracks in the ceiling. Steve can hear the groan of the support beams of the building and the cracks splintering along the ceiling like pressure on ice and he turns and runs as fast as he can for the window because now he's only got _seconds_ -

Shield first, he dives through it, the sound of shattering glass around him almost drowned out by the sound of the whole _building_ he'd just been in collapsing right behind him. 

He catches a glimpse of metal glinting in a distant streetlight a few feet below him.

The buildings here are close, alleyways narrow and shortly spaced, so even without his enhanced body it wouldn't be hard to reach the building across the way.

He ends up _slamming_ into the neighboring building's fire escape, denting it with the force of his momentum but grabbing on and pulling himself up as quickly as he can. He feels snags and tears through his clothes on his back and the backs of his legs as he goes, flying debris from the collapsing building dragging against his body like it's an obstacle.

He can feel the pain and the warmth of blood blooming down the tears in his clothes as he moves, but he doesn't have the time to stop and worry about it.

The sound of cement and metal collapsing and meeting the ground is deafening, so he can't hear if Bucky's following and his throat goes tight, but he keeps moving just in case. He's not going to let himself be the reason Bucky doesn't make it out because he _slowed down_ and stopped his possible escape route. Too many fall in battle because they worry when plans and routes can be the only thing keeping them and those they care about alive. 

He moves quickly.

Steve hauls himself up over the top of the building within minutes, pulling himself over the small ledge lining the building's roof and rolling into a crouch, ignoring the minor stings littering his back and the backs of his legs at the motions. He sees a metal hand grip the side he just pulled himself over seconds later and then Bucky's maneuvering in a similar fashion, coming to a stop a few feet away to Steve's right.

They're both quiet, the only sounds the settling building that they just lept out of and their breaths mingling with the sounds of cars in the distance and a few loud voices reacting nearby to the collapse of the building.

He hears the sound of a string being pulled taut and they both snap their heads to their left at the same time. They turn their bodies swiftly to follow their gazes, Steve immediately bringing up his shield to prepare to block an attack while Bucky shifts into a position behind him to use the advantage of Steve's shield and raises his left arm to guard Steve's left.

Steve pauses when he gets a glimpse of the person on the protruding section of the roof aiming at them from twenty feet away.

“...Hawkeye?” he asks aloud to the dark, the glow of streetlamp light from in front of the building they’re on glinting off of short, blonde hair and bow and arrow. 

It's easier to make out the man's features with the faint glow of streetlights, but even without them the serum enhances everything enough that he can see it _is_ Hawkeye.

Neither him nor Bucky relax their stances, though. Trying times.

“Steve?” Clint asks, not lowering his bow; Steve can hear the slight incredulity in his tone, “Bucky? What are- Oh. Right. _Hydra,_ ” Clint's voice goes a little flat. Steve sees the arrow get pulled back a few centimeters further. “Was that you two, then.” It's not a question, and Clint's voice gives nothing away.

It's a test; either they'll answer right and Clint will lower the bow, or they'll answer wrong and Clint will give them everything he's got. 

He's a smart man.

“Blowing up Hydra safe houses?” Bucky asks, and Steve can hear a hint of sarcasm, “Yeah, that's us. Thanks for saving us the trouble, though it would've been nice if you did it when we weren't _in_ the building.” 

Yup, he can _definitely_ hear the sarcasm.

Steve sees Clint's eyes dart between the two of them before he slowly, finally, lowers the bow, hopping down off of the section of roof he’s perching on.

Steve lowers his shield in response and slowly uncoils from his crouch, careful of his wounds, while Bucky does the same, sporting a limp.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Clint says as he stops a couple feet away, face a little apologetic but stance still cautious, “I wasn't expecting company.”

“Well, at least that means we're still dropping by unannounced,” Bucky replies, eyes shifting to glance over Steve's back and legs, a frown forming on his face at what he finds.

“Yeah, you are that,” Clint says, frowning at the two of them before shifting his focus to Steve, “You seem to be doing better. Last I heard, Tony said you were near catatonic.”

Steve schools his face, because this is Clint and even in the dark he'll see more than Steve wants him to, otherwise, before giving a nod and turning his attention to Bucky.

“We need to go, we can't stay here,” he says, looking back over at Clint.

“Right. Your place or mine?” Clint asks, eyebrows waggling.

Bucky gives a snort. “I may be easy but I'm not _that_ easy. At least buy me dinner first, Barton,” he jokes.

Steve almost rolls his eyes, and by Bucky's expression he knows it, Bucky's grin widening a little further.

“Middle ground,” Steve finally says, interrupting their lighter mood.

Bucky and Clint sober up a bit before Clint finally nods in agreement, turning around to lead the way to the nearest motel. 

None of them can really afford to trust anyone right now, so this small 'leap of faith' will have to do. Doesn't stop them being a bit tense the whole way.

-

They end up at a small establishment, far enough away from the building to not draw any attention but close enough that it doesn't force them to walk too long with their injuries. Steve and Bucky don't say a word about them even while Bucky tries to hide most of his limp, they've been trained to deal with worse, but Clint's being kind.

Clint pays for the room while Bucky keeps an eye on him the whole time from the shadows around a nearby corner, Steve sticking close and keeping a lookout elsewhere.

Steve enters the rented room first, followed by Clint then Bucky, all of them tense but trying to keep it from showing. It's almost ridiculous, but they can't really _trust_ anyone, even if they wanted to.

It's Clint that pulls out the medical supplies, various bits and pieces stashed throughout his uniform. Bucky and Steve both inspect them closely before they start to work on patching themselves up, each taking a seat on the single bed.

Steve's clothes are more or less unsalvageable. Most of the cuts and tears are small, but there's enough of them that have attempted shredding through his clothes and into his skin that make it pointless trying to repair them.

Bucky stitches up Steve's larger injuries that need it, and Steve returns the favor. Bucky deems his ankle only sprained and nothing to worry about so long as he mostly stays off of it for a few hours. Clint keeps his hands in view the whole time, purely for their benefit.

“So,” Bucky starts once they're done half an hour later, eyes directing back to Clint, “What are you doing here.”

“Same as you, I assume,” Clint replies, sitting backwards in a chair that he pulled over from the small table by the window, his arms resting on top of the back, watching them from a few feet away, “Gathering intel, blowing shit up.”

Bucky gives a snort before Steve chimes in.

“What did you find?” he asks. Clint shifts his eyes to look at him, expression calm and controlled as he considers how to answer. He doesn't owe them anything, and trust isn't something any of them have the luxury for; it's a decision they're _all_ trying to make for themselves during this little gathering. 

Doesn't help matters that Steve was the one to take Clint down the last time they were in the same space together, either, under Rumlow's control or not.

Finally, Clint lets out a small sigh, reaching a decision, running his fingers back through his short hair.

“Not much,” he finally answers, looking back at the two of them, “I managed to get in before they could delete anything, but there wasn't a whole lot that wasn't information I'd already learned in a few others places and from various informants.”

“Nothing on _'Project Insight'_?” Bucky asks quietly, lowering his voice like they're talking about something that could get them caught. For all intents and purposes, it most likely could.

Clint's face shifts and he sits up a little straighter, expression slightly confused, but they can both tell that he recognizes the name.

“I got a linked name,” Clint finally says, just as quiet, eyes shifting from Bucky to Steve, then back again, “That's what you guys are looking for, right?” Give a little, get a little. This is the annoying thing about back and forth conversation with layered, hidden information exchange. It's a little hard to tell how much can be too much given, and everyone likes holding their cards close to their chests.

They both nod, waiting for Clint to go on.

Clint sighs, continuing with, “It's the 'Kronas Corporation’. Weapons manufacturers. Do you know what they might have to do with it? Aside from the obvious.”

Steve and Bucky both refrain from reacting, but just barely. 

Yeah, they do recognize it, and they're not ready to let on just how intimately that is, but Clint can still tell when he's hit a nerve. They've become so much more human since they left the states, it makes them a bit easier to read whether they like it or not.

After a moment of silence, Clint just sighs, obviously prepared to not get anything and says, “Right. But don't think I won't bring it up later. Anyway, ' _Project Insight_ ,' do either of you know anything that you're willing to tell about _that_?”

Steve gives a shake of his head, glancing at Bucky before he speaks.

“We don't know what it is, just that it's been mentioned in a couple of the databases we've been able to access so far, but not many of them,” he says quietly.

“It's being kept quiet, and there's not much mentioned aside from the project name,” Bucky continues, picking up where Steve left off, “Which means...”

“It's big,” Clint finishes, letting out another, _longer_ sigh, “Great. Just great.” He drags a hand down his face, suddenly looking like he hasn't gotten any decent sleep in _weeks_. They can both relate. “If it's big and it's Hydra, that means it's probably tied into S.H.I.E.L.D. then, isn't it, since they're still wound up in it like a cancer,” Clint says more than asks, sounding weary.

Steve gives another nod. 

“That's what we're guessing, yeah,” Bucky says shortly after.

They're all quiet for a few minutes, thinking things over.

“You're here under Fury's orders,” Steve states, drawing their attention back to him, “Has he made any progress with Pierce?”

After a moment, Clint shakes his head, face going a little pinched.

“The guy's untouchable,” he starts, “We can't find _anything_ linking him to Hydra, or even the agents other than Rumlow and his team that were working for him. He's covered his tracks good. Even if _we_ know, there's no way to convince everyone _else_ of that, and without _that_ , we can't do much but look for proof, which is why Fury sent me out here. _Among other things..._ ” he finishes the last in a mumble, eyes darting down for a moment.

Steve and Bucky share a glance but don't press it, both looking back to Clint and rising from the bed. They can tell when _they've_ hit a nerve, too.

“We're going to keep tracking down what we can,” Bucky says as Clint rises from his chair a few moments after them, looking between them both.

“Fury told me,” Clint starts, and they both force themselves not to react, because Fury wanting to bring them in was always a probability, a high one, “He told me to tell you to keep looking,” Clint finishes, giving a small smirk at their slightly relieved expressions. They didn't want to have to fight Clint, he was good to them, treated them like people when very few did.

“What, no capture-kill order?” Bucky half jokes, raising an eyebrow and testing the waters.

Clint snorts, giving a small shake of his head. “Nah, not yet. He knows you two left in less than great condition.” He looks at Steve, who forces his face to remain neutral. “But he knows you're of more use out here in the field than locked up in a cage, even if he can't put a leash on you right now,” Clint half jokes, but all of their words hold at least a half dose of truth.

Now it's _Bucky_ who snorts. 

“I'd like to see him _try_ ,” he replies, smirk going a little predatory, a slightly wild look in his eyes.

Clint straightens a little, but other than that keeps himself from reacting. Steve thinks he's a brave man. Lesser have cowed under Bucky. He's seen it firsthand.

After a moment, Bucky gives a nod. Clint's passed his little test - it seems they've _all_ passed each other's tests – and heads for the door.

“I guess we'll see you around,” Bucky says, turning back before he opens it, looking at Clint before glancing at Steve, waiting.

“Be careful,” Steve says, quiet but honest.

Clint blinks in what might be surprise for a moment before giving a small smirk, but it's softer than what he gives when he's joking, more real.

“Yeah, you too,” he replies, and Steve knows he _means_ it.

Steve walks over to Bucky, who opens the door, turning back around to look at Clint when he gets to it.

“Thank you,” Steve starts, “And Clint?” he asks, pausing to make sure Clint's paying attention.

Clint looks at him, waiting, expression serious.

“Try not to blow us up next time, we'd both appreciate it,” Steve says, cracking a small, teasing smile.

Clint blinks for a few seconds before he lets out, “Did you just-”

Steve turns around to close the door behind them, Bucky waving at Clint over his shoulder as he does.

The last thing Steve hears before it closes all the way is the sound of Clint's surprised laughter.

–

They already picked up an extra pair of clothes before they arrived in China - make sure to buy another set whenever they use one so they don't get caught unprepared – so they just head back to the room they're renting, sticking to the shadows and trying to blend in, keeping a casual-but-obviously-headed-somewhere pace. Bucky collapses onto the small bed they pushed into the far corner of the room against the wall once the door's closed, taking a moment before slowly removing his tattered clothes and boots and letting them drop into a pile on the floor. Steve removes his own clothes and drops them down on top of Bucky's – no use folding them - and takes a seat next to him on the bed, careful of both their injuries.

They're both quiet for a bit as they stare at various points of the room, processing what they now know.

“'Kronas',” Steve says quietly, eyes finally landing on the floor before looking over at Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, just as quiet, eyes trained on the wall, “ _That_ man.”

“I don't remember as much of him as you do,” Steve says after a few moments, still watching Bucky, “It was _after._ ” _After_ the first few wipes, _after_ his memories were starting to disappear in the pain of electric currents.

He sees Bucky's jaw clench and his teeth grind together, hands fisting at his sides before he moves, lifting the sheets of the bed in invitation instead of saying anything just yet.

Steve watches him for a moment before he complies, crawling in and putting his back to the wall. Bucky crawls under the sheets after him, pulling them up and turning to face him, putting his back to the room, always protecting Steve.

They're both quiet as they lay in the dark, Steve watching Bucky and Bucky staring at the valley of sheets in the small space between them.

“He wanted us,” Bucky almost whispers, jaw clenching again as he works through his thoughts, “He wanted us as tools, the weapons we were. We were the most valuable.” Steve's quiet as he listens, thinking, remembering what he can. 

He met Lukin more than a few times, but not much more, but the man is tied into other things and it reminds Steve of the beginning, the early days. Lukin was there for some of their later programming, always watching, always... _fascinated_. Steve hated him before he forgot how to hate, hated all of them before he forgot a lot of things, but he remembers. 

He remembers Hydra realizing that the Winter Soldier and the Soldier always reacted to each other in some way, no matter how much programming they crammed into their heads, tweaked them, _changed_ them, like dolls playing dress up, no matter how much they made them forget. It was base, instinctual, not something taking a memory away could completely change, and they _used_ it like they used _everything_.

He remembers Zola and the scientists smiling in triumph when the Soldier surrendered for the first time, the sound of the Winter Soldier's leg _breaking_ resounding in his _skull_ , making his teeth clench. Even with the goggles covering the Winter Soldier's eyes, he could read the small indicators of pain in his face, if not his body, because they were both trained well.

He remembers begging in what little Russian he knew at the time for them to stop, because hurting the _Winter Soldier_ was effective in making the _Soldier_ cooperate, and he just wanted them to _stop_ , even if he didn't know or understand why. It hurt seeing _him_ hurt, and he just wanted it to _**stop**_. 

It made him go to the point where he didn't want to feel anything.

He remembers fingers in his hair, petting and yanking with a smile, talking to him like he was a... _thing_ , a _pet_. He remembers the Winter Soldier tensing and him having to give the smallest signal to _stop_ because they'd only break the Winter Soldier's arm next, and then his ribs, and more if he tried to do anything, and the Soldier couldn't bare that more than he already had, even then.

He remembers feeling helpless, like he finally _was_ a thing, _owned_ , and not being able to do a damn thing about it. Eventually, he came to _welcome_ it.

But the worst part was, by that point, he was almost _glad_ to feel that way, because giving in hurt less and giving in meant less pain for _both_ of them, even if there was always a large part of him shut away, trying to revolt against the bindings they forced on him and _fight back_.

Bucky doesn't say anything more and Steve doesn't ask, just forces himself to sleep. He'll have nightmares, he always does, and there's nothing that either of them can say or think to make themselves feel better. The world isn't a fairy tale where they get a happy ending, it's not safe and warm and secure. It's frightening and cold and made of electricity and stolen moments; it's running and praying that what you're running from won't catch up to you.

Promises are pretty words spoken with a lying tongue, intentional or not, and neither of them are going to do that to each other. They've been through too much to lie; all that's left is the bare, ugly, hard truth.

The truth that neither of them are safe, will never _be_ safe, even when all of this is over, and that the monsters that made them and the monsters that they've become will never go away. That they can't always protect one another or count on the other to be there, even when habit and the lie makes it seem like they will.

Steve can remember the last time he felt hope, can remember it cracking into a million pieces when Hydra shattered Bucky's leg for the first time in front of him, and he hasn't felt it since.

He doesn't think Bucky has, either.

–

He's awake in an instant, but he doesn't move, doesn't even open his eyes. He keeps his breathing slow and takes stock of the room. He doesn't know what woke him, whether it was Steve - because Steve _always_ wakes him - or something else, so he listens.

And then he hears it.

It's quiet, and it's coming from right in front of him.

He opens his eyes a crack before opening them the rest of the way, sight trained on Steve in the dark.

His lips are moving and he's jerking his head slightly from side to side, like he's trying to say ' _no_ ', and his fists are gripping the sheet so tightly it's on the verge of _tearing_.

Neither of them have moved from their positions, there isn't room to - it's a wonder they managed to fit into the bed together at _all_ \- so Steve's still facing him, and Bucky doesn't have to read his lips to know what he's saying. It still makes his heart hurt.

“ _Stop,_ ” near silent, Russian, full of the kind of pain and horror and fear that Steve bottles up and doesn't let anyone but Bucky see, and even then, he doesn't like doing it, “ _Please. No. Stop. **I beg you** -_”

It's stilted, and old, and Bucky _remembers_ this.

He remember his leg getting hit with a metal baton with enough force to shatter it, he remembers _hearing_ it, he remembers the Soldier's eyes widening just enough to be noticeable and cause the armed guards to force the Winter Soldier down, then more pain. He remembers Steve trying to get them to stop with what few words of Russian he _knew,_ which at the time wasn't much. He'd known more German than Russian, then _._

He remembers it never working because the Soldier wasn't _complete_ , wasn't _ready_ yet if he didn't just stay silent and obedient like a _dog_ when the Winter Soldier was inflicted with pain _._

He remembers rage he couldn't begin to place or understand, building deep down, remembers wanting to tear everything down and apart but not knowing _why_. Why would he do that when he _belonged_ to them? 

He’d felt it anyway.

And then there was that _pull_. 

There was always the pull.

“ _ **Please**_.”

He remembers torture for both of them. Their owners called it _training_ , but it was subjugation.

Bucky closes his eyes and doesn't move, squeezes them shut tighter as the litany carries on and doesn't make a sound. 

Most of all, he doesn't touch Steve. He knows better. That's the fastest way to get both of them injured because now more than ever Steve _reacts,_ to _everything_. And Bucky’'s glad, he is, but it makes some things incredibly hard to do. Not reaching for Steve is one of them.

So he waits, waits until Steve's eyes snap open on a choked gasp, stares back at him while Steve's eyes, very slowly, go from memory to present. Only when the tears spill down Steve's face and onto the flat pillow they're sharing does he move, only when Steve lets out a near silent, choked, “ _ **Bucky**_ ,” does Bucky pull him in, wrap his arms tight around him and let Steve bury his face in his neck.

Steve doesn't hold him back and Bucky's not expecting him to, just burrows into the solidity and heat that Bucky offers and stays there. Bucky can feel tears dropping onto his skin.

“ _I couldn't stop it_ ,” Steve says, so quietly in Russian, and Bucky's momentarily surprised. Steve hasn't spoken Russian outside of nightmares in a while and Bucky took it as a sign that he was improving, because it's a crutch for Steve, something he falls back on that means _comfort_ and _safe._ It doesn't matter if it was trained into him or not. “ _I couldn't make them stop, I **tried**_ ,” Steve almost pleads, and Bucky holds him tighter, mouth pressed into Steve's wild hair. “ _I should've tried **harder**_ ,” Steve continues, and then his voice goes lower, so quiet Bucky almost can't hear, which means it's meant for his ears only, “ _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_ **I'm so sorry,** ” he says the last in English. Bucky has to close his eyes against the sting at the backs of them, forcing the tears to stay where they are.

“ _Shh_ ,” he says after a few moments, letting Steve sob into his neck, “ _Shh. I knew. I **always** knew,_ ” he replies in Russian, sliding his fingers up to hold the back of Steve's neck gently. Steve lets out a choked sound before Bucky feels overheated arms wrapping around him, gripping him just as tightly in return.

“I'm sorry,” Steve lets out one last time, and Bucky says the only thing he can:

“I knew.”

–

Bucky wakes again a few hours later, can feel dull rays of blocked sunlight against his back. He opens his eyes and the first thing he sees are Steve’s blue ones.

Steve stares at him for a while and he doesn't move, neither of them do, just watch each other in the dimmed, early morning light.

Finally, Steve reaches forward, lightly touching Bucky's flesh forearm before shifting, getting up and leaning down to press his lips lightly against it. Bucky watches him silently, sleep already cleared as Steve continues to move.

They shift around, maneuvering so that Bucky ends up on his back with Steve leaning over him, Steve straddling his waist with the sheet pooled near Bucky's right hip, forgotten.

He continues to watch as Steve leans down, kissing Bucky's collarbone, both of his shoulders, his ribs ( _each one_ ), a hip, further down to his shin, his toes, then back up to both sets of knuckles and fingers, his flesh elbow. Steve places a kiss on every part of him that was broken during their programming and Bucky watches silently, waiting until he's done.

When Steve finally finishes and sits up, Bucky reaches up with his metal hand and gently grabs his shoulder, nudging Steve slightly – a suggestion – and Steve allows the movement to pull him, leaning back down for a light kiss; long ago given forgiveness and understanding.

Steve only pulls back a few inches when they part, eyes remaining closed for a few moments before opening, staring down at Bucky with dry eyes. They've both shed enough tears for a lifetime, Bucky's sure.

He slowly slides his hand up, moving the metal lightly up along the side of Steve's neck and over his jaw. He lifts it, leaving only his metal fingertips touching skin, dragging them lightly up the side of Steve's nose and then up the bridge of it, tracing along the ridge above one eyebrow and then the other, watching Steve close his eyes again.

He's beautiful like this, surrounded by muted gold and trusting in ways Bucky knows he might never be with anyone else again. Part of him wants to destroy it to keep it, ruin the chance for anyone else and keep it all to himself, choke the life gently out of Steve so he'll stay Bucky's, forever out of the reach of anyone else. And he could, knows Steve would let him, but he doesn't, because as fucked up as he is a large part of him still wants Steve to live, still wants them both to live. He can't be in a world where Steve no longer exists, he just can't at this point, he's not capable of doing it, and he knows Steve isn't either.

He feels a warm hand slide up to rest on his sternum, pressing down with the smallest pressure. His eyes lock with blue when they open again and Bucky can see it there, the urge Steve has to rip his heart out and keep it for himself. 

A slow smile curves up his lips without his permission and Steve gives one of his own in response. 

At least in this, they understand one another; it's important, and it's more calming than having some new life in this new world without being hunted by everything could ever be. 

They fell together, they fly together, and they'll die together. 

Bucky closes his eyes and, for once, he feels a sense of peace that goes deep down, past the ice and memories.

He feels Steve come the rest of the way down and lay on top of him, forehead resting against the side of his neck.

For once, they both feel peace, something they haven't felt in a very long time.

–

They move on to Britain and Bucky pays for the room this time, the both of them having taken to trading off every other destination. 

They spend longer than they usually do in bed the morning after they arrive, just laying together, breathing each other in and soaking up old and new sensations, old and new grasped understandings.

Eventually, Bucky complains about needing to “ _take a leak, fuck, Rogers let me up_ ” and Steve decides not to move until he's sure Bucky's almost at his breaking point, listening to him complain and curse at him while ineffectually trying to get out from under him the whole time before finally _getting up_ , watching Bucky use his enhanced speed to run to the bathroom. 

He's grinning a bit when Bucky comes out and Bucky flips him the bird. Steve just gives a small laugh.

They eat protein bars with the room's radio playing quietly, Bucky remaining at the table and Steve moving on to do push ups. He's just finished his fiftieth set when the tune changes to one he recognizes and he gets up off the floor, eyes zoning in on the radio before looking over at Bucky.

Bucky stares back for a few moments before he gets up, coming over and stopping a foot in front of him with a cocky smile on his face.

“Care to dance, Rogers?” Bucky asks, pulling Steve in with a metal hand on his waist and using the other to take a hold of Steve's hand.

Steve lets out another, quiet laugh as he rests his free hand on Bucky's metal shoulder and grips Bucky's hand in return.

They dance to the “No Name Jive” by the Glen Gray Casa Loma Orchestra, Bucky spinning him every now and then and startling a laugh out of him, which just makes Bucky's smile shine more.

At first, it was Bucky who first started teaching him to dance when they were kids, then Bucky started going out more as they got older and picked things up. They taught each other, Bucky wowing the girls when Steve couldn't, and Steve was always a little upset that he could never do the same; never angry, not at Bucky, but upset at his own body for being the way it was, for it's own limitations. 

Still, dancing with Bucky made up for a lot of it. Bucky was patient with him; whenever his asthma kicked in Bucky would help him through it, if Steve let him, and even when he didn't (“ _Quit bein' a stubborn ass and lemme help, you just being stubborn won't make it **stop**_ ”). Pretty soon they were probably good enough to steal the dance floor, but they'd never get to show anyone, unless one of them were a dame.

Steve's not sure he'd trade those times for being able to show people, though, because dancing with Bucky was always _his_ , and regardless of who was teaching who, it was always one of the few things Steve was content to lay back and let someone else take the lead in, which in turn put a smile on Bucky's face.

Bucky twirls him once more before they part, dancing a few feet apart before coming back in close, meeting like rejoining tides, hands locking and gripping each other. Bucky's metal hand goes back on his hip and Steve's on Bucky’s shoulder as they move, smiles for once on both of their faces freely, laughing occasionally at a spin or an old, _now_ remembered step.

At the end of the song, Bucky turns and Steve lets out a surprised laugh when Bucky dips him, chuckling at Bucky's waggling eyebrows at still being able to pull it off, maybe even better now because of his metal arm, one of the few good things it's capable of doing.

He pulls Steve up after a few moments of gloating and they lean into each other, stupid grins on both their faces and foreheads touching while the song changes, soon forgotten in the background.

They've come a long way from 1943, so far that they're hardly recognizable as who they used to be, but those two men are still in them and thriving as well as they can, given their circumstances. Even if the smile feels a little strange on Steve's face now and Bucky's hair is at least three times longer than it used to be, the smile is starting to feel more natural and Bucky's hair being long is becoming normal. They're adjusting.

“I'm going to take you dancing, Stevie,” Bucky says after they finally pull apart, a smile still on his face but his eyes are serious, mind made up. Steve blinks, breath catching in his throat at the words, the look.

Bucky's smile grows a little more, more determined, and his eyes looking at him with an intensity that strikes Steve deep, down somewhere he can’t name.

“I'm going to take you dancing,” Bucky repeats, words firm.

Steve blinks a few more times to hold back the sudden sting in his eyes before he finally smiles, something that feels big and warm to match the feeling in his chest, still feeling a little strange but out of all of them, it feels the most natural so far.

He sees Bucky's smile widen in response, filled with a little awe, a little surprise, and something else neither of them needs to name. 

And Steve finally nods, his cheeks a little warm for the second time in over seventy years.

For the first time in a long, long time, he's looking forward to it.


	4. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic gore, violence, sex, and loss of limbs.

Bucky _does_ take him dancing before they leave Britain.

It's an old, small club hidden like a hole in the wall that plays music from eras gone by, eras they _knew_ , and the oldest parts of Bucky and Steve feel right at home. The whole place glows with a soft warmth from the forties and there's couples around them like themselves, ones who would have been arrested or beaten down in the years they used to know.

Bucky’s pulled his hair back into a low ponytail for it and Steve’d tried to put his _own_ hair into some semblance of the way it used to be before and during the war, and they’d both stolen a couple of suits reminiscent of their past ( _and Steve only feels a little guilty for it, but the fact that he can feel guilt over the act at all makes him feel a little lighter, somehow_ ) and pulled themselves together, put effort into how they looked and walked and dressed, and then they went.

And now they’re finally _dancing_.

It's an accumulation of old desires and newly fought for and found freedoms. It's being able to pull each other close and hold one another in public in front of people both similar and different to themselves in more ways than Steve can name.

It's dancing like they're fourteen again and dancing like they've both always wanted to but couldn't. It's a fulfilled longing and a moment in and out of time, a chance to say ' _hello_ ' and ' _goodbye_ ' to who they used to be and who they couldn't stop themselves from becoming. It's an ending and a start.

For once, they're just two men dancing in the middle of a room, the crowd parting to give them space as they move, circling as they watch.

For once, they're just two men, one with dark hair pulled back and one with smoothed down gold, recently managed scruff on their jaws and impeccable suits enclosing their frames, the cages they’re in and the weapons they’ve been made into.

They both wear dark colors, Bucky clad in black and Steve in dark, navy blue. They hold on to each other at only minimal points when they dance, but where they hold is firm like they're determined to never let go, like they _could_ never let go. When they pull apart it's like watching the ocean recede from the shoreline. When they circle each other, eyes locked and focused, they're a tiger and a lion squaring off, always keeping each other in their sights, whether to clash with claws or mouths the crowd wouldn't be able to tell you ( _and they'd be wrong anyway, because the answer would always be **both**_ ).

Bucky's dark hair is reminiscent of the black of tiger stripes, weaving in and out of shadows and lights like a predator, and the warm glow from lights above the dance floor shine off of Steve's blonde hair like the pale gold of a lion's mane. They coil and slide and shift, motions continuously rolling in waves and spins, deadly grace and efficient subtly, but also wild and old and _young_.

When they meet again it's in perfect balance and in perfect time, perfect step, an equal distance met from one to the other and the crowd is _cheering_ and _clapping_ , _awed_ and _**excited**_ at something they can't begin to understand and foolishly hope that they could have.

Because it all came at a price, one neither of them would wish upon anyone to pay even if they were willing, unlike themselves.

They're both breathing hard by the end of it, putting eighty-five years of emotion and everything they are into their moves, their bodily expression of old longing, pain, love, everything they've become and still manage to hold onto and _try_ _to be_ , eyes telling stories decades old that no one but each other can decipher. Something you'd only know if you had _been_ there.

The crowd screams and hollers around them, nearly drowned out by the beating of their hearts.

_This is their love song._

\--

By the time they make it back to their rented room, the sun is just starting to creep up on the edge of the small town, night danced away and a new day rising.

They shed their suits, Bucky carefully removing Steve's piece by piece with a care both old and new, with a touch that concludes their farewell to bygone times and eras and finding home revealed and released from under layers of stolen clothing, stolen time.

Steve removes Bucky's the same way, fingertips gliding over warmed metal before they fold the clothes and abandon them altogether, falling into one another on the small bed.

Bucky doesn't try to get Steve aroused because he still can't, but he lavishes Steve with his attention and ministrations, leans over him and brackets him with his arms and legs, trails kisses over Steve’s face and down his neck, scruff making Steve huff out a _laugh_. Bucky's forearms bracket the sides of Steve's head, hands shifting to slide through carefully styled hair and dislodge it, tongue and lips and kisses trailing down Steve's sternum and lower down over Steve's stomach. Steve's hands slide up to find their way into Bucky's hair, gently tugging out the hairband.

Bucky muffles a quiet sound against Steve's hip when Steve buries his fingers in long hair, gently massaging Bucky's scalp while Bucky trails his lips down the length of Steve’s cock.

Even if he can't get aroused, it still _feels_ good, and it feels good to be touched, to have Bucky's attention. And Bucky's attention _always_ feels good.

Bucky's fingers trailed out of Steve’s hair when Bucky moved down, sliding over and down to drag his palms down the length of Steve's sides. They find their way to Steve’s hips before slipping down further, along the outside of his thighs and then under, gripping and gently spreading Steve's legs.

Steve lets them fall open, mindful of Bucky as he maneuvers himself between Steve's legs, sitting up on his knees.

Steve watches him lean down, feels Bucky trail kisses along the insides of his thighs while his hands slide down to the backs of Steve's knees, along his calves and down to his feet. He massages the arches gently before slipping his hands around to slide up over the tops of his feet and up Steve's ankles, to his shins and over his knees, then back up the fronts of his thighs.

The motions force quiet sounds of Steve's own out of his mouth, eyes sliding shut as Bucky's mouth slips down low to slide his tongue up along the crease where Steve’s left leg meets his body, teeth biting down gently on his hip when they find top curve of it.

Steve lets out a louder sound at the multiple sensations and attention all focused on _him_ , his fingertips still trailing through Bucky's long hair who makes his _own_ sounds at those sensations. They've tried to avoid touching each others' heads because of memories and muscle memory of the chair, but it's easier now and these sensations are different, so different, and it feels _good_.

Steve _tugs_ gently and Bucky moves with the motion, sliding back up along Steve's chest before laying on top of him, lips finally meeting in a gentle but firm kiss, eyes slipping closed.

He can feel that Bucky's hard between them, and Steve spreads his legs a little further to accommodate, lifting his hips to _grind_ them up into Bucky's. It gets him a _gasp_ and a _groan_ that Steve opens his mouth to, swallowing them down to keep them inside of himself; they are _his_.

Bucky's warm fingers bury themselves into the back of Steve's hair, Steve lifting his head slightly to accommodate, letting Bucky mess it up, Bucky’s metal palm sliding down to grip his hip as Bucky thrusts against the other one.

They pant against each other, Steve's tongue finding its way past Bucky's parted lips to scour his mouth, tongues sliding against each other, warm and wet amidst Bucky's quiet moans, swallowed down like all the rest. The friction burns a little, but soon Steve can feel precome on his skin and it helps smooth the way, just not enough.

He slides a hand out of Bucky's hair while tugging gently with the other, Bucky breaking the kiss with it, eyes watching him as he continues to move against Steve. Steve brings his free hand up to his mouth, turning his head slightly to drag the flat of his tongue up his palm before slipping it down between them, all while keeping his eyes locked on Bucky’s.

Bucky's own eyes go a little wild at the sight, locked up intensity slipping through in waves and focused on _him_ , always on him. Bucky lets out a louder _groan_ when Steve wraps his fingers around him, eyes staying locked on Steve's while he picks up the pace, his own fingers tightening in Steve's hair.

Steve massages Bucky's scalp with his free fingers and Bucky's eyes go half lidded briefly before he forces them back open all the way, breath picking up as he tightens his grip on Steve's hip, hard enough to _bruise_.

“Steve,” he says quietly, bringing his face down close to breathe against Steve's lips.

“I want you to come,” Steve says just as quietly, but strong, certain.

Bucky's eyes widen slightly as they stay focused on his and he lets out a loud groan as he thrusts into Steve's hand three more times before he _comes_ , “ _Steve_ ,” slipping past his lips before he drops the scarce few inches between them and they _collide_ , shore meeting ocean.

Steve swallows down all of the quiet sounds that make it past Bucky’s teeth and harsh breaths while bringing his legs up to wrap around Bucky’s waist, sliding his fingers down out of Bucky’s hair to hold the back of his neck.

Bucky pulls back after a few moments and leans down, kissing the pulse point on Steve’s neck before leaning up to press one to his forehead, fingers sliding out of his hair to trace them down the side of Steve’s cheek, loosening his grip on Steve's hip. Metal fingers slide back up Steve's right side while Steve slides his hand out from between them, brings his hand up to his mouth to inspect the mess.

Bucky's metal fingers wrap around his wrist lightly, just holding on.

Steve looks back up at Bucky while he starts to lick the mess clean, Winter Soldier's eyes darkening as he watches, breath hitching slightly. The Soldier can feel his hips give an aborted thrust against his own, making his lips tug up, just a little.

Bucky quirks a slightly self deprecating smirk, voice low as he says, “Even with that knock off serum, still doesn't beat my refractory period at eighteen.”

Steve huffs a sound, almost a laugh, before returning a small smirk of his own.

“If we were eighteen,” he replies, “You'd be chasing Mary Margaret around the block and asking her for a _dance_.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, smirk widening.

“True,” he says, voice still quiet, “And she'd eventually say _yes_.”

His smirk grows lascivious, cocky, and Steve actually gives a quiet _laugh_.

“I know,” Steve replies, keeping his voice down, “I was the one who helped you get down the hall to the bathroom so you could clean up your drunk, sweaty self.”

“Oh, right,” Bucky replies, grinning a little, “ _Mrs. Steve Rogers of the **rattiest** apartment on the block_ didn't want my sweaty ass ‘ _staining the sheets and making them smell like liquor_ ,’ was it?”

Steve frowns a little, small and playful. It feels a little more natural, now.

“Damn right I didn't want you staining the sheets,” he says, “ _I'm_ the one that had to do the _laundry_.”

Bucky scoffs quietly. “I did it a few times.”

Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Yeah,” he replies, “Because I made you clean up that mess you made with the soup. I told you to eat it at the table but you insisted your balance was, what was it... _’something even acrobats wished they had’?_ ”

Bucky gives a _snort_ , leaning his head down to rest his forehead next to Steve's cheek. “Shaddup,” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Point is, I cleaned’em.”

Steve huffs another quiet laugh, sliding his fingers back up to brush through Bucky's hair, stroking softly while Bucky gradually lets himself fall asleep.

Steve closes his eyes soon after, and for the first time in years, neither of them dream.

–

They head to Turkey the next day, then Iran a few days later before jumping back to Ukraine, then India, sticking to the outskirts of major cities and traveling through minor towns where they eventually run into Clint, who’s also been tracking down Hydra on Fury’s order. They gain a little more information on 'Project Insight' and the Kronas Corporation by trading what they've learned with Clint and Clint returning the favor. They gain enough to start putting the beginnings of the bigger picture together.

The obvious link is weaponry, but what it is _specifically_ and how it's going to be _used_ is still mostly a mystery.

Steve's got a hunch he might know what it is, something he remembers Colonel Philips saying during the war, but he doesn't press the thought. He knows Bucky's thinking the same thing when he glances up at him during their meeting, talking over the information they have and sorting out the information they _need_.

He doesn't want to be right, and he can tell Bucky doesn't want them to be, either.

Clint gives them each a Stark phone, courtesy of Tony, promising the phone's are only traceable if you turn the feature on yourself and only traceable by _JARVIS_ (“ _Natasha tested it personally, and if **she's** willingly to carry one around, we **all** know it's safe_ ”).

Steve and Bucky are both reluctant to take them at first, even with the assurance ( _that **is** probably true, but you never know, they're **all** spies_ ), but finally, it's Steve who relents first, acknowledging that though he might not like it, the idea of having _Stark_ of all people as backup when they're getting further and further into this Hydra mess is a relatively comforting thought.

If anything, Tony can blow up a building no problem, if they need it.

They part ways with Clint saying,“You two be careful. I don't want to have my morning cartoons interrupted by your dumbasses on the news pulling some ridiculous stunt,” in India and take a plane to Libya, bouncing next to Thailand before rebounding back to try Sweden, then Nepal. It's the stop before their last one and neither of them are quite ready.

\--

They don't learn much of anything new after their meet up with Clint. The safe houses, both active and inactive, yield little to nothing. Most of them end up being active, but whether they get to the computers quick enough or not seems to be becoming a moot point. The only _relative_ information quickly becomes what they already know, and their results plateau.

\--

They find out about Roxxon, probably the only new thing worth noting, but don't dig any further than that.

Doing so would only draw more attention to them than they want since the company is a major corporation with multiple, shady dealings, and going after _Kronas_ is going to be a big enough problem to deal with as it is.

So, for now, they leave it alone until it becomes relevant and spend their last night before heading out to their last destination curled around each other, Steve wrapping himself around Bucky's back for two hours while they sleep, then Bucky wrapping around his halfway through.

Their nightmares have started occurring less and less and their minds feel more settled. That's not to say they don't still get them, that Bucky doesn't jerk awake when Steve cuts off a yell or Steve doesn't end up awake and alert and avoiding a metal fist trying to punch through his face. But things are becoming...not easier, but more manageable.

They're both worried it's only the calm before an oncoming storm. Given their situation, they're almost expecting it to be, but can't do much about it, so they sleep.

Then, finally, they go back to Russia.

–

It's cold, is Bucky's first thought, not that he was expecting any different, but it's not cold in a way someone else might think. Its cold is familiar, almost like coming home.

Part of him recoils at the fact that Hydra dug so far into him that he can think that, but the rest of him feels an ease deep in his bones, a comfort for something long thought lost and taken from him, because, like it or not, Russia _was_ his home for almost seventy years.

His eyes dart over to Steve as they make their way out of the airport, avoiding cameras and keeping their heads down and hats tipped low, stepping out into the white of the outside and the cold, the falling snow. Steve's face is blank in a way that once might have terrified him, but he can see the emotions in his eyes now.

Steve feels the same way he does.

\--

They purchase warmer coats with some of their remaining money, having used it sparsely to make it last and pickpocketed or stolen their way around when necessary, and pull them on.

Steve rents the room even though it's Bucky's turn because Bucky's more familiar with Russia than Steve is, spent more time on ops and missions and used more aliases in it than him. They don't want to screw this up now that they're finally here, so neither takes the chance on a possible, subconscious slip that Bucky will use an alias he has before or his face will be recognized.

The room is cheap and small and poorly located, like all of their rented rooms have been. There's a small, single bed that they push to the far corner like all of the others, a small table and a decaying shower. The walls are cracked and old and the floor isn't much better, and Bucky's pretty sure he can see a blood stain in the middle of the floor ( _yes, he can_ ). There's an old tv on a cheap stand opposite where the bed was and a cracked mirror in the bathroom, a small heater by the single window.

It's perfect. No one would think to look for them here ( _except maybe Natalia, and perhaps Barton because they both know better_ ).

Bucky heads over to turn the heater on while Steve goes over to turn on the tv, finding a fuzzy news station and letting it drone on quietly in the background, both keeping an ear out for keywords related to information they're looking for.

Bucky wishes they had a radio instead. He misses listening to Classical.

-

Eventually, Steve goes out, not too soon after they arrived but before midnight, all the same, and brings back four bags of takeout while wearing a slightly weary grin.

Russia is full of memories for the both of them.

He moves over and sets the bags on the table, shaking the water of melted snowfall out of his hair as he does.

Bucky raises an eyebrow ( _Really? Over the food, Steve?_ )

Steve just raises both of his own back, putting on an innocent face ( _What?_ )

Bucky rolls his eyes before taking a seat at the table, spreading the bags open to get at the takeout boxes.

Steve follows suit seconds later, leaving his coat on as the heater tries to catch up with the cold. It won't be long before they can take them off, their boosted body temperatures will make it a shorter wait.

They eat dinner quietly, each lost in their own thoughts, but part of their focus always stays tuned into the low noise of the tv, as well as their surroundings. There's two people yelling down the hall and a dog yapping out in the street. Three cars have driven by in the past ten minutes, and it's quiet.

Everything's normal for this time of night on a weekday.

Finally, some of the more important news reports from earlier in the day that they weren't in the country for loop back around and both of their attentions snap back to the tv, listening intently-

“ _Kronas Corporation's CEO and Founder returned from a trip today to Washington D.C.,_ ” the newswoman starts in Russian, “ _He will be hosting a meeting with the board of Kronas Corporation to discuss 'further advancements in modern weaponry and ideas to further the company' tomorrow morning. The company's on the road to 'change the world for the better,' Aleksander Lukin had said when we managed to get a few words from him when he arrived back at Kronas Corporation earlier today. Many citizens are wondering just how a company that builds weapons can change the world for the better, but given what we know happened with Stark Industries two years ago and then the alien invasion that took place in New York City, anything is possible._ ”

The news report continues on to cover a few events the company dealt with last week before shifting to another topic.

They both share a look.

Bucky doesn't say anything and neither does Steve, and after a moment they go back to eating, finishing their dinner before peeling off their coats, the room finally warm enough for them to shed the extra layers.

-

They both shave completely that night with a pair of scissors and a couple of disposable razors that Bucky buys from a small store on the nearby street corner. It's easier to do since they got it all managed before they went dancing.

Bucky cuts Steve's hair while Steve sits cross-legged on the bed, Bucky sitting behind him with his legs pulled up loosely on either side, knees gently resting against the outer sides of Steve's arms.

He cuts it short, as short as Steve had it when they were back at the Tower, collecting the strands with each snip and dropping them into one of the empty take out boxes next to him to burn later. After, they switch positions, Bucky sitting loosely cross-legged while Steve cuts _his_ hair, shorter than it was as the Winter Soldier, but longer than it was before the war.

His bangs brush just above his jaw and the back is slightly layered, out of the way and _different_. It'll make them both a little harder to recognize if they get caught on camera since they've been sporting the same look for weeks now, even if in person it'll be easier to identify them. It's fine, they don't plan on sticking around long enough for that to have much of an effect.

They sleep facing each other that night, staring at one another without saying a word. They don't need to.

They're not nervous, but they _are_ tense.

Bucky gets the feeling something's going to go wrong, and he listens to that feeling, because it's very rarely wrong, even when he wasn’t who he is now.

He can tell Steve's noticed and Steve inches closer so their knees and fingers touch, and leans forward to press their foreheads together.

In the end, there really is nothing _to_ say. There are no last minute confessions or desperate touches, and even if there was, they both already know all they need to, all they _want_ to. There is no clinging out of fear and wishing they could hope, because death doesn't scare them and hope is for children ( _even if he told Natalia something different long, long ago_ ). They have each other in all the ways that count, and that's all they've ever needed, that's all they've ever wanted.

They both force their eyes closed, Bucky first, then Steve, and make their bodies rest.

They have a battle tomorrow.

–

They plan extensively the next morning, after both Bucky and Steve each go out to stockpile weapons.

Bucky manages to wrangle five guns and three knives.

Steve comes back with three guns, four knives, and five grenades.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, but Steve just shrugs.

\--

They move late in the afternoon, waiting until they have confirmation that the meeting at Kronas had dragged on late and had just _then_ let out before they try to infiltrate.

Steve goes in through the parking garage, shield hidden in the painting box under his arm as he pretends to be a deliverer. He'll go ahead to the top floor and should arrive a few minutes after the meeting room has cleared out, like they planned.

Bucky's going through the lobby, risky but necessary. He's counting on the distraction that Lukin will be alerted by a facial scan. After all, the Winter Soldier is _valuable_ , and if Lukin is working with Hydra and Pierce (and Bucky _knows_ he is, even without all of the evidence), then he'll have the photos of him without the mask and goggles, his _profile_. The man's used to getting what he wants, used to going after it like a bulldog, and Bucky knows he _wants_ them both.

He'll always be on the lookout for them, especially now that they've gone rogue.

He gets passed the security desk with a snagged ID pass and a pasted on friendly smile, hair slicked back and stolen suit perfectly in place. He looks like he belongs ( _and avoids looking in reflective surfaces, doesn’t need the reminder right now_ ).

He's just boarded the elevator and pushed the button when he catches a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye: the security guard talking into his handheld radio, eyes darting in Bucky's direction. Bucky keeps his eyes focused to the side, only keeping watch out of his periphery while the doors close. The distraction worked. He rides up to the sixtieth floor, not surprised when the elevator _pings_ once before letting him up into the private sectors that require passcodes.

It seems Lukin wants to see him.

The doors slide open on the seventieth floor and Bucky steps out, the short hall empty.

His footsteps are muted on the expensive, carpeted floor as he heads down the hall, and he keeps it that way even when it shifts to wood paneling.

He glances to the left.

The secretary's desk is empty.

He looks back straight ahead.

One of the double doors to the right of the desk is ajar.

He walks over and pushes it open, then walks in, aware of every gun and knife and grenade he has on his person.

The room takes up ninety percent of the seventieth floor and only has a few short halls before it's essentially an open space dissected into four rooms ( _there was only enough information on the layout to tell them **that** much_ ), a panoramic view of Russia straight ahead.

It reminds him a little of the Tower. Though, admittedly, Tony's got Pepper to design the space, so it's not nearly as ugly.

There's double doors to his left and double doors to his right when he walks further inside, both closed, and small pedestals with various expensive artifacts displayed throughout the room. There's bookcases lining the walls and a large, wrap around couch in the center. A large, dark, wood desk sits centered by the wall of floor to ceiling windows at the far end of the room.

Lukin's sitting behind it, fingers steepled and elbows resting on top of the smooth, flat wood.

He looks too calm for Bucky's liking, and something in his stomach gives a _twitch_ , that same uncomfortable feeling from last night creeping back in from the background.

It's quiet for a few minutes while they stare each other down. Finally, Lukin spreads his arms, fake smile on his face.

“ _Winter Soldier_ ,” he greets in accented English, eyes...secretive, “I have not seen you for some time. You look well.”

“ _You mean I look 'in tact’_ ,” Bucky replies in Russian, voice without inflection and expression schooled into a neutral blank.

“Ah, yes. That bit of business in New York from your previous handlers,” Lukin replies smoothly, leaning back a little in his chair, “Terrible business. They did not know how to properly handle you. Either of you.”

Lukin raises an eyebrow but Bucky says nothing, eyes remaining focused on him.

“I heard you were caught by S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Lukin starts again after a few moments, resting his hands together on top of the desk, “Pesky organization. I hope they did not treat you two too roughly. I would hate for the goods to be damaged.”

He's trying to get a rise out of him, test him. Bucky can't let anything show _regardless_ of what Lukin might know.

He continues in Russian, like he was taught.

“ _There was minimal damage,”_ he reports, _“Nothing that could not be dealt with. Hydra's inside forces sped along our escape._ ”

Lukin nods like he knows this already. It's not surprising that he does. But, if that's the case, Bucky has to play this carefully because, and not for the first time in his life, he doesn't have all of the facts. Fortunately, that's familiar and he's become an expert in pulling shit on the fly.

“I heard you stayed for some time in Stark Tower,” Lukin says after a few moment’s consideration, “How was his AI? I hear it is impressive, but he will not sell it to anyone.”

“ _British accent. Stark treated it as a butler,_ ” Bucky replies calmly.

Steve should be here by now.

That uneasy feeling grows.

Lukin lets out a _bark_ of a laugh, boisterous and grating on Bucky's ears.

He's used to Steve's quiet laughter after weeks of it, and even when Steve's _loud_ , it's more like music than sharp angles. Steve's always been like that.

“What a waste,” Lukin says after he calms himself, lacing his fingers together on top of the table while he takes a few minutes to study Bucky, eyes intent, _knowing_.

Bucky doesn't like it.

“You may know that I have wanted you and _The Soldier_ in my collection for some time,” Lukin starts, Bucky trying to keep his body relaxed, “And you may have also noticed that The Soldier is late.” Lukin presses a button on the edge of his desk and the double doors to Bucky's left slide open, but he doesn't move, doesn't react.

He can hear heavy footsteps and a body's clothing dragging along the floor with a body's weight and he doesn't _have_ to look to know who they're carrying.

He recognizes the exact measurements of sound and weight.

One of the seven men that files into the room sets Steve's shield onto Lukin's desk, moving into position at Bucky's back right.

“Forged by Stark Industries,” Lukin says, running fingers _possessively_ across it's surface, the shield reflecting the setting sun behind the glass, “Howard Stark, not Tony Stark, though I suppose you both knew that already, at some point.” Bucky wants to cut his fingers off for touching the shield, and touching it _that way_.

He hears Steve hit the floor, can just barely see him out of the corner of his eye from where he's at.

He wants to break those agent's arms.

He forces his breath to remain calm and controlled, instead.

Lukin smirks. “It was not a bad plan. Have the Soldier come up through the shadows while you distract with fireworks. A little unoriginal, but your options were limited. Still, not bad for thinking on your own, for once.” He reaches down and opens a drawer, pulling something out before closing it and getting up, rounding the desk.

He…

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly.

He doesn't know what it is, but he doesn't like the look of it, not at all, and he doesn't like the direction Lukin seems to be taking it.

He shifts and then there's guns on him and he has to stop, calculate.

The agent’s positions are clustered but they're all gradually spreading out, preparing themselves for an eventual shitstorm because even if they don't _know_ and even if Bucky's keeping himself under control, he's too human now to keep it _all_ under control. His facade has cracked, just a little, just enough.

Three more armed agents file in through the doors behind him, opening them quietly enough to be unobtrusive but loud in Bucky's ears.

Ten. Highly trained and armed. This is getting more and more difficult.

Lukin leans over Steve, whose cheek is resting against the floor, eyes closed and mouth parted slightly.

The device is a metal circle with saw-like blades closed together at the center, minimal switches along the outside curve. Lukin presses a button and _pulls_ and the circle _expands_ , blades pulling apart like a mouth opening _wide_.

Lukin motions for two of the guards to lift Steve up and they turn him onto his back, taking hold of his arms to lift his back up off the floor while another props up his right leg. Lukin bends down and slides the device up, up, _up_ until it's resting a little over an inch above Steve's knee, blades closing around it enough to rest against the material of the old jeans.

Lukin holds it there, motioning to the guard that had lifted Steve's leg who then backhands Steve across the face, _jolting_ him awake.

Winter Soldier has to repress a _growl_.

Steve forces his body to remain still, otherwise, taking stock of the situation.

The back of Bucky's neck starts to prickle with sweat and he grits his teeth.

This isn't going to end well for them.

 ** _Shit_**.

Steve quickly scans the room before his eyes land on the device around his leg, eyes going wide for a moment before he looks up at Bucky.

Bucky can see the fear in them and _fuck_ , he can't blame Steve, he really can't.

“Here is what I want,” Lukin starts, detaching a small remote from the device before pushing himself back up with the _sigh_ of the aging, a hand going to his lower back momentarily, “I want the _Winter Soldier_ ,” he gestures to Bucky, “And _The Soldier,_ ” he gestures to Steve, “Or I will take measures none of us will like. Well, I can't say I would be opposed to modifying The Soldier, as you have been,” he continues in thought, eyes analyzing Steve on the floor like cattle, whose gaze has gone blank as tundra, “But that can wait. Now, decide.”

Bucky forces his teeth and fists to unclench ( _he hadn't realized they'd done that_ ) and shifts his gaze from Steve to Lukin, then back again, communicating with his eyes.

( _What do you want me to do?_ )

Steve looks back at him levelly, taking a silent breath before clenching his teeth, eyes darting to the desk so quickly Bucky’s sure no one else saw it ( _enhanced abilities. Useful for all **sorts** of shit_).

Bucky squares his shoulders, calculating rapidly while he distracts Lukin, Steve's decision made.

_**Fuck.** _

“What's to stop me from just killing all of you,” he asks, forcing his voice to sound calm, controlled, when really all he wants to do is kill _**all** of them and take his damn **fucking** **time doing it** ; put that device around **Lukin's** leg_.

“Ah, yes, the inadequate arsenal you are probably carrying under your suit,” Lukin replies, calm as ever, “I am not worried. We took out the Soldier easily enough and he is even harder to take down than you are. I would say it was a disappointment if I didn't know you two weren’t up to fully operational. All those pesky memories.”

Bucky finished calculating halfway through that. He lets his fingertips twitch just slightly to let Steve know, minute enough that only Steve or a high quality camera is going to pick it up, knows Steve is looking for it.

“ _Obey_ ,” Lukin finally demands _impatiently_ , slipping into Russian in his haste. He presses one of the two buttons on the remote briefly and the blades slide down half an inch into the skin of Steve's leg.

Steve, to his credit, doesn't react, doesn't even twitch, but Bucky can hear his breathing pick up just slightly; he's bracing himself.

Bucky has no illusions of how this is going to go, neither of them do, and it just makes him _angrier_ -

“You can take your 'obey' and _go **fuck** yourself_ ,” Bucky replies vehemently in English before _diving_ for the desk, vaulting himself behind it just as the gunfire starts and grabbing the shield in the process.

He pulls a gun out from the inside of his suit coat and comes up from behind the desk, firing and taking out four agents with a head shots each before they get smart and try to take cover.

Not that there's much cover to take in the wide room, and Bucky's got one of the best seats in the house.

He tosses the gun when it runs out of bullets and pulls out another while using the shield to deflect most of the gunfire aimed at him, leaps back over the desk and charges three agents clustered behind the couch, taking two bullets to the leg as payment while one bounces off his metal shoulder, tearing the suit in the process. He quickly takes the three down the behind the couch, pulling a knife out and throwing into the forehead of another behind one of the pedestals with his metal arm, using enough force for it to go out the other side and embed itself into one of the bookcases with a _thunk_ behind the agent it just went through.

The last two are on opposite ends of the room, so he has little choice if he wants to be fast.

Bucky _throws_ the shield at the one on the left with the force of his arm while pulling out a third gun to shoot the one on the right. He takes a bullet to the side and his flesh shoulder in return for taking out the agent on the right while the shield _shatters_ through the glass casing housing an artifact and _cracks_ the skull of the one on the left.

Bucky catches it on the return volley and spins around, aiming his gun next at Lukin-

Who's crouched behind Steve and using him as a shield, remote hidden behind Steve's shoulder and blood slowly drenching the knee of Steve's jeans.

“ _Choose carefully_ ,” Lukin says in Russian. Bucky can't get a clear shot, Steve covers too much of him.

If he aims carefully, he can shoot through Steve without hitting anything vital ( _he's done it before_ ). It's not a guarantee but it might be able to change the way they can both see this going, and he tries to tell Steve this with his eyes but Steve's got that damn _determined_ look on his face that _never_ leads them anywhere good and Bucky _doesn't like it one bit_.

Steve looks him in the eyes for a moment, then he's moving lightning quick, reaching behind him to grab Lukin by the shoulder and _toss_ him in Bucky's direction. Bucky _fires_ but not before Lukin manages to _push_ the button on the remote and the device's blades _**snickt**_ closed through _skin_ and _muscle_ and _**bone and**_ -

Steve sucks in a breath and doesn't make another sound, collapsing onto his back on the floor with his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched tight-

Bucky runs over, ripping his belt off in an instant with enough force to tear some of his belt loops off and drops down on the floor next to Steve, sliding slightly with the momentum. He quickly loops the belt around Steve's leg above the wound, making sure it's secure and pulling _tight_ -

There's still blood pooling _everywhere_ -

“ _Shit-_ **Fuck!** Steve-” Bucky lets out, ignoring his own wounds, adrenaline pumping through his body and making it easier.

Steve's breathing fast and his eyes are still _squeezed_ shut, fists clenched tight at his sides so hard there's blood leaking down his palms, too. Steve _slams_ his left foot into the floor with enough force to _crack_ and splinter the wood paneling, letting out the most _pained_ noise from the back of his throat Bucky's ever heard from him, teeth clenched hard enough Bucky can practically _hear_ them grinding.

“Steve, _hold on_ , I just need to-” he cuts himself off as he remembers and pulls out the Stark phone, quickly turning on the tracer and dialing the first number on the list. It's Tony, and this is probably the only time he'll think, _**Thank fuck**_.

“ _What is it_ ,” he hears Tony demand, picking up almost as soon as the first ring ends.

He must realize they wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important.

“ _Tony-_ ” Bucky starts, taking a deep breath and trying to force it out slower. It makes his side hurt. “Where are you.”

“ _My house. Why?_ ” Tony replies quickly, and Bucky can hear him already moving through the speakers, metal _clang_ ing and echoing in the background.

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut.

He's going to take time to get here, then.

“Steve- He's- _We need you here._ _**Now.**_ Turned the tracer on. _**Find us,**_ ” he hangs up without waiting for a reply, letting the phone _clatter_ to the floor.

He knows Tony will drop everything and come, already has, he said he would. Maybe they didn't spend a whole lot of quality time together, but he spent enough time with and around him to know Tony's not the type of person to say something serious like that without meaning it, especially not with the look he'd had in his eyes when he'd said it.

He turns his attention back to Steve, whose breathing is still rapid and eyes are still closed, skin going paler by the minute.

He's losing too much blood.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky forces out after coming to a decision, ripping the left sleeve of his suit off and uncovering his arm, “ _I need to stop the bleeding_.”

He lifts a panel right under the red star on his left arm, adjusting a few sections before he gets them where he wants. The metal starts to heat from the palm up, silver slowly going smoldering orange-red.

Steve's eyes snap open at the words, looking at him with wide eyes.

Bucky shifts so his left knee is settled between Steve's legs, right on the other side of Steve's left. He carefully moves the detached portion of Steve's right leg out of the way before getting into position, using his enhanced strength to push down on Steve's right leg with his right hand above the makeshift tourniquet. Steve lets out another, _sharp_ , _**pained** _ sound.

Bucky pauses for a moment before darting his eyes around, looking for something, _anything_ -

He jumps up briefly and darts over to Lukin's desk, grabbing one of the decorative artifacts off of it ( _an old, wide dagger. Dulled. Won't cut_ ) and returns back to his position on the floor over Steve, leaning forward and holding out the dagger horizontal-ways.

“Bite down,” he orders.

Steve looks at him for a moment before opening his mouth and Bucky slides it in, making sure Steve's biting down on it when he leans back.

He doesn't say anything else, just looks straight at Steve and Steve looks right back. Then, arm glowing hot up to the forearm, he braces Steve's leg with his right and presses his _hot_ , metal palm flat against the open stump of the wound, cauterizing it closed-

Steve's back bows as he _screams_ , left foot _slamming_ down on the floor again and nearly going _through_ it with the force, fists clenched tight against the wood floor, pounding them twice, hard against it. The smell of burning flesh fills the room and smoke rises from between Bucky’s palm and Steve's leg, Steve's blood soaking into both of their clothes, seeping through to his knees.

He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say he's sorry, and he doesn't let himself feel it right now, he _can't_.

But he hears Steve's _screams_ and _smells_ his _flesh_ burning and knows that _he's **causing** it _ and that he can't _stop_ or Steve _will die_. And maybe they're both ready for that, but not yet, _not yet,_ and not like this, especially not by the hands of someone else.

So _fuck them_. Fuck them all to Hell and _back_.

Bucky can think that all he likes, but it doesn't stop Steve's screams from ringing in his head and clearing out every thought he has but one-

The only thought that stays is:

 _Steve_.


	5. Little Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for graphic gore, violence, loss of limbs, and a very pissed off Bucky/Winter Soldier.

Steve's screams trail off when he's half done cauterizing the wound, and when he glances up, he sees that Steve's eyes are still squeezed shut, teeth _cracking_ the old blade in his mouth and tears streaming down into the short sides of his hair. Bucky's almost done when he picks up movement at his back left, hears someone shifting around on the floor over the quieting sound of flesh sizzling.

Bucky turns his head enough to see who it is out of the corner of his eye, and he can't help his eyes widening slightly when he catches a glimpse of Lukin, rolling over onto his back and propping himself up on his hands.

 _Lucky. Fucking._ _**Bastard**_.

The wound is almost completely cauterized and the bleeding has been stopped, but he can't move yet, _not yet_. He tenses slightly, keeping an eye on Lukin while checking Steve's leg every few seconds.

Lukin gives a _cough_ , blood splattering down his suit and the sides of his mouth.

“ _You missed the vital point,_ ” he says in Russian, a smirk pulling up his lips.

“ _You got lucky. It won't happen again_ ,” the Winter Soldier replies shortly, _sharply_ , eyes narrowing.

Lukin lets out another bark of a laugh, a few more droplets of blood landing on his expensive suit.

“ _You won't get a second chance_ ,” he says confidently, shifting to lean down on an elbow, calm as can be for a man that just got shot and is in a room with two of the world's most dangerous assassins. Alone.

He watches Lukin's eyes shift to Steve, angling his head slightly to get a better look. 

Bucky shifts, makes himself look bigger to try and cover Steve and keep him from his gaze.

Lukin raises an eyebrow, smirk going up higher on one side. “ _Well, now I can do those modifications I wanted._ ”

Bucky's eyes widen before they narrow again, body tensing and right fingers digging into the flesh of Steve's thigh slightly before he catches himself and forces them to stop, a soft _pained_ sound pulling itself out of Steve's throat and making Bucky refocus.

Lukin's gaze shifts back to him, smirk still firmly on his face.

Bucky pulls his left hand off of the stump of Steve's leg once the wound is completely closed and then turns slowly, rising to his feet in one slow, deadly roll, turning to face Lukin before he takes a step. 

Lukin flashes an ugly, _triumphant_ grin.

“ _Veridian_ ,” he says in German. 

A part of Bucky's brain _niggles_ at the word, finds it _familiar_ \- 

It's a trigger, he realizes, an old one, one meant to shut him down.

He keeps walking.

Lukin falters a little, eyes widening slightly.

“Veridian, _veridian_ ,” he tries again in English and Russian. 

Nothing.

Bucky stops, standing over him with his feet planted on either side of Lukin's knees, staring down at him, bangs fallen into his face.

Lukin's mouth is open slightly, expression layered in shock, _surprise_. The dawning realization that he just lost whatever upper hand he had over one of the world’s most deadly weapons. One of its most terrible.

Bucky moves in a _flash_ , bringing his foot down _hard_ on Lukin's right knee, _crushing_ it completely with the force and enhanced strength. He relishes the _scream_ it gets him, but keeps his expression controlled. He crouches down after a moment, careful to keep his still glowing, hot hand and forearm from touching his body as he leans down over Lukin, getting in close to his face.

Lukin's harsh breaths _huff_ warm across his skin and he wants to _cram_ them back down the man's throat and make him _gag_ on them. And if he looks close enough, he can see his reflection in Lukin's eyes, can his own blue-grey ones are wild, _furious_.

“ _Why isn't it-_ ” Lukin starts, but Bucky darts his hand in like a snake as soon as his mouth opens and scorching, metal fingers take hold of his tongue, listening to Lukin scream at the heat of his grip before _ripping his tongue_ _**out**_.

Lukin chokes on the blood quickly pooling past his lips, eyes wide as he collapses onto his back, hand flying to his mouth.

Winter Soldier has two more minutes before he has to shut down the heat function on his arm or risk damage.

He's going to make them the longest two minutes of Lukin's life.

He bares his teeth in a _growl_ , bangs dangling down the sides of his face. The Winter Soldier makes sure Lukin's wide eyes are on him when he reaches his hand low, stopping just above Lukin’s right knee.

Lukin's eyes widen further as realization hits, eyes darting over to Steve for a second before he begins to struggle to try and get away.

“A leg for a leg,” Bucky growls out, eyes wide with anger as he _slams_ his hand down, soldering heat melting into flesh and muscle and _bone,_ intending to _damage_ this time rather than _help_.

Lukin screams again and it's like music to his ears, fuels his anger. Lukin's hand flies from his mouth as he yells, blood splattering across the Winter Soldier's face. Bucky drags his hand up slowly along the rest of Lukin's thigh before lifting it off completely, pausing for a moment as he considers his options, nose filled with the smell of burning cloth and flesh and blood.

“ _You were asking about Stark_ ,” he says in Russian, deceptively calm.

Lukin's teeth are gritted and he's breathing harshly, eyes having closed at some point and _squeezed_ shut. 

Like Steve.

Good.

Bucky reaches up and _backhands_ him across the face with his right, forcing Lukin's attention back on him. Lukin's eyes snap open and he drags his half glazed eyes back up to the Winter Soldier, gaze slowly coming into focus.

“You wanted to know about Stark,” Bucky repeats in English, voice just loud enough for Lukin to hear over his own hard breathing.

Lukin's expression goes confused amidst the fog of pain the Winter Soldier can see clouding his eyes, not understanding where Bucky's going with this line of conversation.

The Winter Soldier lifts his hand again, letting the scorching metal hover above the center of Lukin's chest. Lukin’s eyes widen when he starts to understand.

“Maybe if I get you closer to him, you'll understand,” the Winter Soldier says, quiet and steady. He lowers his hand, resting the metal lightly on top of Lukin's expensive suit, deceptively gentle. 

The material burns and smokes as soon as his fingers touch it and he gradually presses down more firmly, Lukin screaming again when metal finds skin and melts down further to muscle, the bone of his sternum. 

Lukin chokes on his screams when Bucky's hand finds his aorta and the rest of the tubing leading up from his heart, wraps his fingers around it and slowly pulls it _out_ with a small _tug_ , holding it high enough for Lukin's wide eyes to see.

His heart beats five more times before Bucky shifts his grip and _crushes it_ , the smell of burning meat and slight smoke drifting up into the room. He reaches back up with his flesh hand to the still open panel at his shoulder just below the red star and turns off the heating mechanisms before sliding the panel shut, watching the light leave Lukin's eyes as the man takes his final breaths-

Bucky stands after a few moments, letting the slightly cooked heart drop from his hand to land on top of Lukin's body and turning a little to look back at Steve, who he finds staring back.

The Winter Soldier doesn't move for a few moments, just looks at Steve looking at him before he turns all the way around and heads back over to him, stopping at his side and crouching down.

Steve's taken the blade out of his mouth Bucky made him use as a bit and it's lying on the floor near his left hand, covered in saliva, cracked and discarded. His breathing has calmed but it's still a little fast and there's blood _everywhere_ , on the floor _and_ on them, their own and not.

“I'm not apologizing,” he says quietly. Steve's eyes shift slightly to look into both of his before he closes them, giving a small nod.

The Winter Soldier reaches down and gently drags his flesh fingers through the left side of Steve's hair, Steve turning his head slightly towards him to give him more room to run them through the strands. His ears pick up the faint sound of the elevator approaching from outside the room and he carefully wipes away the tears trailing down into Steve's hair before standing up, turning and heading for the office door.

“Stark will be here in half an hour, tops. I'll take care of the agents coming and then shut down the elevator from here,” he says as he moves towards the office entrance.

Steve doesn't say anything as he leaves the room and he closes the doors behind himself to block Steve from view. 

It's easy to continue ignoring the bullets lodged in his body.

He's a foot away from the elevator when the doors slide open and four armed guards step out.

He takes them by surprise.

–

He returns to Steve once he's taken care of the four agents and shut down the top ten floors from elevator access. He's sporting two new deflected bullet scratches to join the first on his metal arm and a bullet in his other leg, pushing the door to the office open and shuffling through. He leaves it open enough so that he can keep an eye on the hallway.

Steve's where he left him and his eyes open again when he hears Bucky approach, looking up at him from where he’s at on the floor while Bucky crouches back at his side, then carefully lowers himself to the ground.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve struggles to get out, throat raw from the screaming.

“ _Steve_ ,” he says back a little teasingly, trying to lighten the mood and earning a _pointed look_ from Steve for his efforts. He _sighs_. “Yeah, I know, but it's not too bad. I'll be fine,” he says, giving Steve his _own_ pointed look, “It's _you_ I'm worried about. I know you're not dealing with what happened right now.”

Steve looks down the length of his body at that - forehead creased in pain – before looking back up at Bucky, shaking his head slightly.

“I know,” Bucky says quietly after a few moments, reaching over to rest his cooled, metal hand on Steve's shoulder, “ _I know_. And I'll be with you. You won't have to go through this alone, like I did.” 

Steve's eyebrows pinch together ( _If I had been awake-_ )

Bucky shakes his head slightly ( _I know. I don't blame you_ ).

They don't say anything else for a while, Steve staring at some point on Bucky's leg while Bucky watches the snow covered city outside the wall of windows, keeping an eye on the hall beyond the slightly opened office door on the other end of the room. He leans over to retrieve his Stark Phone when it starts vibrating across the floor, body slowly starting to feel heavier from the loss of adrenaline, blood, injuries, _exhaustion_.

“Tony,” he answers, holding the phone to his ear with his right hand while keeping his left on Steve, trying to keep him grounded.

“ _Oh good, you're still alive_ ,” Tony says in a joking tone that sounds forced, “ _I'll be at K-Corp in twenty minutes. Can you two hold out ‘til then?_ ”

Bucky glances around the room briefly before taking stock of their remaining weapons. 

Lukin had unarmed Steve when he caught him, so all they have left is a knife, three grenades, and whatever guns the dead agents still have on their bodies. 

It's enough.

“Yeah. I'll be able to handle whatever comes through the door,” he replies, glancing back down to Steve, “But it's just me. Steve's in no condition to fight.”

Steve's eyes dart up to his at the words, expression going a little more pinched again. They're both good at blocking pain, but this is extreme, and Bucky can see it pulling Steve's face tight.

“ _I'm not going to like it, am I_ ,” Tony says more than asks. Bucky doesn't bother with answering.

“I shut down the top ten floors. Can you retrieve us from where we're at and get us out quick?” Bucky asks, shifting his gaze back to the hall before looking again out at the city. He misses it.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Tony replies, and Bucky can hear JARVIS in the background, “ _I have a jet scheduled to pass by over the building a hundred feet up a few minutes after I get there. I'll grab you two and do a drive by, give you a free ride back to Stark Land_.” 

Bucky snorts faintly before nodding, even though Tony can't see him.

“ _I also brought along a private doctor_ ,” Tony says after a moment, “ _Sounds like you two might need it_.” 

Bucky looks back down at Steve who looks back up at him, trying to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah. We're going to need one,” is all Bucky says, voice low.

They disconnect the call shortly after that and Bucky doesn't bother relaying any of it to Steve. He heard the whole thing with his upped hearing.

The Winter Soldier slips the phone back into his pocket and continues to keep a watchful eye on their surroundings, fingertips gripping slightly tighter into Steve's shoulder when Steve's eyes start to flutter closed ( _a little longer_ ). Steve forces them back open, turning his head to look out at the city, as well.

Parts of them both miss it, the snowfall and the winter cold, the deceptive white and lack of dilly dally. It's blunt and beautiful. It's cold and harsh, but welcoming. 

It's not New York, but it's still home, too.

\--

Tony appears as a spec twenty minutes later, as promised, quickly closing the distance and flying right up to the window. He stops for a solid two minutes, just staring at them, Bucky assumes. 

He imagines Tony's eyes taking in the mess that they are and the mess that's _around_ them, the room in shambles, the bullet holes and blood everywhere.

The suit gives a slight shake before he's signalling to Bucky, who gets the message and leans over Steve, left hand staying on his shoulder and right palm bracing on the floor, covering Steve's top half with his own. Stark _blasts_ one of the large glass windows and there's a brief, deafening _shatter_ before it's lost to the wind, snow blowing inside the room in overexcited flurries.

Bucky shifts back as soon as it's safe to do so, hears the heavy _thunk- **clunk**_ of Tony's suit landing on the hardwood floor. He carefully maneuvers himself back up into a crouch, giving Steve's shoulder a squeeze in warning before he gets a grip on Steve and lifts his back up off the floor, getting him into a sitting position. Steve gives a punched out _grunt_ through his clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Tony says, faceplate popping up, “ _What in the **hell** happened?_ ”

Bucky glares tiredly up at him before sliding his metal arm down to wrap around Steve's waist to support his weight, gesturing for Tony to do the same.

“Right. Explanations later,” Tony says, moving closer and quickly leaning down to comply, carefully wrapping his right arm around Steve's waist and helping Bucky _lift_. Steve lets out a _strangled_ sound as they do, and Bucky's heart _clenches_.

Tony falters slightly at the sound of it but keeps lifting until Steve's standing on one leg, Steve's jaw ticking with the force he's using to keep it shut.

That's when Bucky hears the faint sound- 

The elevator's coming back up. 

_Shit_.

Tony must catch it too because he turns to Bucky, offering his other hand.

“Anything else we need to grab?” Tony asks, and Bucky glances to the shield, calculating before making a quick decision.

“Take him,” Bucky orders, letting go of Steve and going over to pick up the shield, crouching with a grunt over one of the agents and taking a gun off the body. He turns to see Steve tense, eyes locked on him and a little wide.

“Barnes-” Tony starts, face pinched.

“Take him first. Come back for me after. There's no time,” Bucky says quick, standing back up and pulling the hammer on the gun back, shield slid onto his right forearm.

“ _Bucky-_ ” Steve chokes out, face screwing up in pain as he tries to move towards him.

Bucky immediately goes over, shifting the gun to the hand with the shield on his arm so he can reach up and grip the back of Steve's neck, pulling him down slightly to rest their foreheads together. He keeps his eyes on Steve's while he speaks.

“I'll be fine. I can hold them off for a few minutes,” he leans back and shifts his eyes to Stark, “You have time to come back for me?”

Tony's expression shifts, going determined as he nods, circling his other arm around Steve's waist.

Bucky nods back before letting Steve go as he turns back around, shifting the gun back to his left hand and taking position behind Lukin's desk. “Go,” he says.

“ _ **Bucky**_ -” he hears Steve protest again before the repulsors _fire_ and Stark takes off, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft, faint _ping_ in the same moment.

There's five of them, and he takes out the first two that push into the room before they get smart, diving and taking cover wherever they can find it. He uses the shield to deflect the bullets when he comes up from behind the desk far enough to fire and manages to get another before the gun jams- 

He lets out a _curse_.

There's only two left but he's sure there's more on the way.

They're starting to encroach in on the desk, converge down on him like two lines on a single point, have realized that he's stopped firing and isn't moving out from his cover when _Tony_ flies back in, repulsoring the two agents into the far wall as he lands with a heavy, metallic _thud_.

He flings an arm out in his direction and Bucky pulls out two of the grenades hidden in his suit as he runs, tossing them in the direction of the hall just past the wide open doors. He makes sure to use just enough force to get them to land by the door frames before he wraps his arms around the suit's metal neck and grips on _tight_ -

Tony wraps his flung out arm around Bucky's waist and flies _backwards_ out of the office and into the air, hovering seventy stories above the ground. Bucky just barely catches the sound of the elevator doors opening again on their way out before the _explosion_ levels the floor, making the whole building _shudder,_ like it can no longer stand the cold it was made in. 

The debris just barely miss them as Tony flies them up and _shoots_ offto the left with a jerk like a rocket.

Bucky gets the barest glimpse of the jet just ahead before he drops his head down to keep the wind speed from _blasting_ his face, forcing himself to trust Tony's abilities with the suit.

The door to the jet slides open when they're ten feet away from it and Tony lands, setting them down just inside. Bucky hears the door slide shutbehind them as soon as they're in and he sways slightly when he lets go, Tony's hand coming up to grip his shoulder.

“I know I'm hot stuff, but easy there, tiger,” Tony jokes, faceplate sliding back up.

Bucky grunts before smacking the metal hand off his shoulder with his left, metal _clang_ ing on metal as he rights himself and quickly scans the plane.

He spots Steve laid out on a plush, reclined chair towards the back, eyes already locked on him, and makes his way over, moving slower than he'd like. There's a man sitting to Steve's right in the chair next to him by the window, bent over and inspecting Steve's leg.

They'd left the rest of his leg behind. There was no point in grabbing it once they both realized they wouldn't be getting help soon enough and it'd have to be cauterized closed.

Bucky lets himself drop into the chair across the walkway from Steve's, leaning back and turning his head to keep their eyes fixed on each other, letting out a breath.

“So, Bruce, how is he?” Tony asks, coming over and standing in the middle of the aisle just in front of the seats they're in. Bucky can hear the _strain_ and _**worry**_ under the forced levity. 

He briefly, vaguely wonders if Tony’s ever realized how transparent he is to people like them.

The man – Bruce – lets out a sigh, looking up from his inspection of Steve's leg.

“I'm not this kind of doctor, either, Tony,” he says with a withering look; they've had this conversation before.

Tony waves a hand to dismiss it, quirking a brow. “Maybe not, but you're familiar with the sick and wounded and these two _definitely_ fall into the latter category. Not to mention Barnes here is riddled with bullets,” Tony jerks a thumb at him, “And you're more familiar with _those_ than I am. I can't do much about any of this. I fix machines, not people.”

Bruce gives Tony a _look_ before his eyes shift to Bucky, taking in the mess he must look.

“Sergeant Barnes, pleased to meet you when you're not scheduling a hummer to ram into me,” Bruce says a little dryly, but Bucky can hear the serious tones laced underneath. Bruce is definitely not _unamused_.

Bucky closes his eyes briefly before opening them again, shifting his gaze from Steve to Bruce momentarily. “Yeah, sorry about that. Didn't exactly have much of a choice at the time.”

“So Tony has informed me,” Bruce replies, expression letting up a bit, “Now, about your injuries.”

And that's about the time Bucky loses consciousness, Steve just barely beating him to it now that he knows Bucky's on the jet with him and they're as safe as they're currently going to get. It doesn't make him any more inclined to pass out, but Steve's been on the verge of losing consciousness for at least the past hour and Bucky's _own_ body has finally decided that it, too, has had enough.

Everything goes black and the last thing he feels is the shield slowly sliding down his forearm, and hears Steve's breaths even out to his right.


	6. Dream Of My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a nod to The Stranger by aprofessorstale somewhere in this cackle.

Bucky's not sure how much later it is when he wakes. He becomes slowly aware at first, and the first thing he does is take stock of himself ( _All limbs attached, including his metal arm, hair still the length he cut it, bullet wounds healing, no further injury_ ). He hears a steady _beep- beep-_ to his right, an echoing _beep- beep-_ a little further than that, feels the sensation of slightly scratchy - but somehow still comfortable - sheets covering him. It also doesn't feel like he's wearing the suit he last remembers being in, but something lighter, a little scratchy, like the sheets.

He listens carefully, judges that he's alone before cracking his eyes open slightly, slowly blinking them open fully in the soft light of the room. 

He's lying in a bed covered in white in a just as pristine, white room. 

It looks familiar.

An image of Clint, banged up and bruised by Steve flashes in the forefront of his mind and the pieces click into place. 

He's in the Tower's med lab.

He doesn't move for a moment, lets his body adjust and wake up further while keeping his breathing and heart rate controlled, aware of the monitor attached to him by wires.

He slowly turns his head and studies it.

It doesn't take him long to analyze and figure out how to shut it off. 

He reaches over slowly with his right hand, presses a couple of buttons before the _beep_ 's silence, and then he pulls the I.V. out of his arm, along with the few other wires lodged into his flesh. He lifts the sheet next, turning right on the bed and silently setting his feet down on the shiny, cold floor, lifting himself just as silently off of the bed and taking a step.

Bucky takes a look down at himself ( _white scrubs, naturally, with a faint, Captain America's shield print on them; **Tony**_ ) and catalogs the various other sensations he's slowly becoming aware of now that he's not hooked into, what he's assuming, were pain suppressors – among other things. 

There's bandaging he can feel wrapped around his shoulder, side, and legs, stitches tugging lightly at the smallest movements, and all of his bullet wounds have been seen to. The stitches feel like they'll need to be removed soon, which gives him a general time frame ( _almost a day. He can't remember ever sleeping that long outside of his time in cryo_ ).

He lifts his eyes and glances around the room, his attention quickly focusing in as soon as he spots Steve.

He's in the bed across the way in front of Bucky, the one furthest away from the half wall of tinted windows behind him ( _and_ _Bucky gets the feeling that was done for both of their benefits_ ). Steve's got more wires and tubes hooked into him than Bucky had and his right leg doesn't go all the way down beneath the sheets like his left. He looks like he's sleeping peacefully, but drugs have that effect.

Bucky pads over silently - a little stiff from not moving for so long - and stops close to the side of Steve's bed. 

He glances up at Steve's monitor, but things look as steady as his own did and that tells him nothing. He looks, but can't find a chart.

“JARVIS,” he says quietly to the air a few minutes later after coming up with nothing, glancing up at the ceiling.

“ _Mr. Barnes_ ,” comes the calm reply. Bucky thinks he hears a note of _welcome_ in it.

“How is Steve?” he asks, eyes shifting back down and cataloging what he can see of Steve above the sheets pulled up to just below his chest, letting his eyes roam Steve’s face.

“ _Steve is stable_ ,” JARVIS replies calmly, a note of concern laced between the words. Steve always did have a way with people, guess that includes even JARVIS. “ _Mr. Banner thought it best to sedate you both to allow for a period of longer rest. It would seem that you two have not been fully getting your required amount_.”

Bucky's lips quirk up automatically at the slight tone of _disapproval_ , letting it slide from his face when the moment passes.

“Thank you,” he says, eyes scanning the room again, “Should we be expecting company?”

“ _You're welcome, Sir, and no_ ,” JARVIS answers, “ _Mr. Banner said he would prefer for you two to have some time to yourselves after the events at Kronas Corporation before anyone should try to visit._ ”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, taking a small breath of relief. He really doesn't want to see anyone just yet, no matter _who_ they are, it would be too much right now. 

Besides, he needs to try and prepare himself for how _Steve_ might react when he wakes up. He’s got more than a few scenarios starting to course through his head and none of them look good, and he doesn't think anyone else should be around if any of them occur, it will just make Steve shut _down_.

The parallel between the white med lab possibly filling with people and the various scientists and armed guards that had surrounded their old cryotubes with the chair just across the old room isn't lost on him either. Steve doesn't need that relation first thing waking.

“Tell him thank you for me,” Bucky replies, taking a few steps back to sit down on the bed he got out of, gaze going back to Steve, “And for everyone to stay away for now, at least until a while after Steve wakes. I don't know how he's going to react.” He sighs quietly. “Oh, and tell Tony ' _fuck you_ ' for the scrubs.”

“ _Very well, Sir_ ,” JARVIS responds, tone a little dry at the last.

“So his leg is alright?” Bucky asks after a few minutes, watching Steve, eyes shifting back to his leg. The cauterization was crude, if effective, but not the best way to do it, regardless of their extremely limited options. Bucky needs to know that he didn't fuck something up in Steve permanently, even if it's only the physical, for now.

“ _There was a start of infection, but Steve's increased immune system had already begun to take care of it by the time you were both brought to Avengers Tower_ ,” JARVIS starts, “ _There will, however, be heavy tissue damage to the area due to the manner in which the cauterization was performed._ ”

JARVIS almost sounds a little apologetic, or maybe he’s projecting. Bucky closes his eyes and gives a small nod. He'd calculated all of the risks beforehand. Steve had, too.

He lets his eyes slip back open to look at Steve, gaze dropping to watch his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. 

It makes him think of freezing nights in a shitty apartment in Brooklyn and staggered breathing after a fight, of muggy humidity and labored breaths he could feel shuddering against his chest through Steve's back when he was wrapped around Steve’s small frame and trying to help him _breathe_ -

Steve doesn't have those problems anymore, but the memories are still there.

Bucky lets them wash over him while he watches Steve sleep.

–

_“ **Steve, whaddya doin'?** ”_

_Steve turns, feeling shorter than he's become used to. Smaller. Lighter, too. And finds Bucky standing next to the stairs to Steve's long gone, old apartment._

_Bucky's young, fourteen maybe, and Steve thinks he can smell the apple pie his mother likes to bake after they've - very slowly - gathered together the ingredients she needs to make it. It took weeks - sometimes longer - every time, but she waited with a patience he could only ever hope to try and gain a fraction of. He'd tried, learned._

_It makes his eyes start to water and then Bucky's face is going concerned and he's moving forward, a warm hand landing on Steve's slim, bony shoulder._

_**Everything feels so warm** , and it hasn't felt like this in **years** -_

_And then he's staring at Bucky from far away while he runs, hears the rickety metal thump under his feet in finality – **one, two** – before he's jumping across fire and there's flames coming up all around him- _

_But he keeps his eyes on Bucky, even when he nearly misses and his gloved hands catch the same railing Bucky's had moments before ( **both flesh and blood, but that blood is already changed** ). Then Bucky's overwarm ( **from the fire, from the heat everywhere, from the adrenaline and fear and hope and not his enhanced metabolism, not yet**) hands are on him and trying to pull him over even though Steve weighs a hundred and fifty pounds more than he used to. _

_But they get Steve over and then Steve's hand goes to the middle of Bucky's back and he's **pushing** , getting Bucky to **move** , and **they're running** -_

_Then they're storming a Hydra base and he's surrounded by men who will be gone in seventy years except one, all of their guns blazing and his shield held up, a gun in his right hand._

_Once silence falls on the warehouse, Dernier's running with Gabe and Falsworth to set bombs in the best locations to ensure total destruction of the base and Bucky's turning his head towards him to give Steve a **look**. _

_He doesn't look happy, per se, hasn't really since Austria, but he looks like he might be starting to get a few pieces of himself back, Pieces that Zola took from him._

_**Zola** -_

_Steve’s falling from a train right after Bucky and he grabs Bucky's hand because that's the most important thing now, the **only** thing now, because he knows there's nothing else left now that they're two, small men, small compared to everything around them, lost to the wind and snow and mountains and nature and **cold**. _

_And even if it wasn't the only thing left, it's **Bucky** , and Steve will always try to follow him wherever he goes._

_Bucky's a point of warmth the whole way down, the yell he'd started out falling with now locked up in his chest and his eyes on Steve's as they tumble through gravity._

_When they hit the ground they both feel and hear their bones shatter, but that point of warmth doesn't change. They don't let go._

_It's never changed. And after a while there's snow crunching footsteps and men in uniforms with guns and they're being dragged apart, **losing that only point of warm contact** -_

_His body is healing, both of theirs are, but Bucky's taken away from him by the men and he's left alone on a flat bed that his body is slowly healing enough to start to feel in a bright, windowless room. There are scientists poking and prodding at him, trying to aid his body to heal things in the positions they should be and trying to take from it Doctor Erskine's secrets. He can't move anything but his tongue and his eyes, so all he can do is watch as they come in and out of focus._

_He's never told Bucky that he remembers this, that he was awake the whole time and forced himself to stay that way. He thinks Bucky might know, whether he realizes it or not, because he's pretty sure that Bucky did the same thing._

_Zola is there more often than not, and for the first time Steve feels a fierce hatred directed at **some one** rather than **some thing**-_

_They've sedated him, made him pliant, stripped him of everything and now they're putting him in a long, metal tube, closing the door in his face. He can't move, but his eyes stay open as the tube fills with **cold** and then **freezing** and he can see his reflection in the glass window already layering in frost in front of his eyes._

_It's colder than the fall, colder than lying in the snow for hours ( **and he would have forced himself to be content there, war be damned, because at least Bucky was there with him**), colder than freezing Winter nights in a small apartment in Brooklyn. It's colder than anything he's ever felt, a cold that sinks down into him, past his skin and flesh and bones and down into everything that he **is** , turning it all to ice._

_It's the last time he sees his face in **years**._

_And then-_

_And then he's waking up and he's still so cold and it's hard to breathe because everything's **stuck** and **frozen** and he needs time to **thaw** like their old, frozen radiator in the Winter ( **which is a hysterical thought darting around in his head even though his thoughts are almost nonexistent at the moment: frozen, sluggish, white, blank** ) and nothing wants to work and he can't move and there are people surrounding the metal tube he's in ( **why is he in a metal tube?** ), watching him **intently** -_

_Most of them have guns._

_There's a man there, in the center, straight ahead of him ( **Zola** -) and beyond him-_

_Steve can't breathe, because **Bucky's** there, but his hair's longer ( **down to his jaw** ) and his eyes are deader than Steve's ever seen them, even during the war, but he can see a spark in them, somewhere, and his arm is **metal** ( **how?** ) **and** -_

_“Captain Rogers,” Zola says with a disguising, kind smile in accented English. It's a lie and Steve can see right through it, clear as anything now and it looks **strange** on Zola’s face but somehow just as true as the **fear** Steve's seen there before._

_Steve blinks, very slowly, frost still on his lashes, in his veins._

_“My apologies, this must be very disorienting for you. I'm afraid the defrost takes a little time to finish. But with your metabolism I imagine it will not take too long,” Zola says with a small smile._

_Steve wants to curl his fingers into fists and put them through his face. He manages to get them to curve an inch._

_Zola notices and his smile widens further, gesturing to some of the armed guards standing around the tube he’s in._

_They close in and Steve manages to **shift** a few inches, trying to avoid them but he just can't and it's starting to get **frustrating** -_

_They grab a hold of him by the arms and pry him out of the metal tube and he **falls** ( **thinks he sees an aborted move from someone up ahead** ), only slightly managing to catch a fraction of his weight, but it's not enough and he lands naked on the floor, **hard**._

_A huff of air is forced out of him when he hits the warm ( **cold? Warmer than he is** ) cement floor of the room. He hears Zola **tsk** , say: “ **Careful!** He is **valuable!** ” from somewhere up in front of him before there are **hands** on him again, lifting him up onto knees that will only barely support his weight **with** the guards holding him up._

_“Now, shall we get started?” Zola asks, but Steve doesn't think his answer is really going to matter, so he doesn't bother trying to give it. His eyes slowly find their way back to Bucky, who's still where Steve last saw him ( **if a little closer now** ) and his eyes are trained on Steve like laser points. _

_Steve thinks he might see confusion there, a hint of it and something else, but his mind is still slow and he isn't sure._

_“Bucky-” he tries to say, and it's quiet and faint but **there** , loud enough at least for Bucky to perk up slightly at the name. _

_Bucky's eyebrows draw together slightly with a small frown pulling down the corners of his lips and Steve doesn't understand the confusion._

_“Who the hell is 'Bucky'?” Bucky asks, eyes darting to Zola briefly, whose expression smoothes out from whatever it had shifted into - Steve wasn't paying attention – before Bucky's eyes magnetize back to Steve._

_“ **You** ar-” Steve starts, but Zola cuts him off with an, “ **Enough**. Lift him to the table. I want a full examination and notes taken on how his body is handling the defrost; efficiency, recovery time, healing speed, respiratory, blood flow, circulation, strength recovery-”_

_The scientists start to crowd him and he gives a small **jerk** , trying to move back and away but the hands on him stop him and then one of the guards is **backhanding** him across the face for **trying** to get away and his head just **whips** with it, can't stop the force at **all** and he feels like he did before the serum, jerked around like a ragdoll, **helpless**. _

_His face is finally starting to warm, so he **feels** the hit, but-_

_A choked **gargle** cuts off his weakly grasped train of thought and the guard blocking his view shifts in reaction to it, just enough for Steve’s eyes to drag up and find where the sound came from-_

_His eyes widen slightly, as much as they can right now._

_Bucky's got his **metal fist** wrapped around one of the guard's throats, and when he lets go the body drops like a sack of flour. _

_Steve thinks of his mother baking pies, saving up for just enough flour and hot Spring afternoons with a cool breeze, Bucky's hair dancing in the wind-_

_He blinks once ( **more than once? How long has it been?** ) and the image disappears. He must have gotten lost in the memory because now the room's covered in red and there's only two guards left, standing in front of Zola at the other end of the room with their weapons raised and there's **black** blocking most of his view **and** -_

_Oh._

_It's Bucky. **Bucky's** standing in front of him._

_**He thinks of an alley** -_

_Shakes his head, clears it away. He thinks he might lose more time if he lets it take hold._

_But he must have somehow anyway because now Bucky's turned to him and his eyes are locked with Steve's and there's red streaked across his face. He's standing close, inches away and a guard over him like a stone angel that doesn't understand what it's doing, only that it **needs** to. He's standing as still as Steve feels frozen and Steve manages to lift one of his hands, Bucky leaning down enough, slowly, looking surprised at his own actions as Steve drags frosted fingers across the red, trying to wipe it away. _

_He has a stray thought that it oddly suits Bucky, the red, even if it makes Steve's insides **twinge** to see it there._

_After his fingers fall away, Bucky reaches out and his own fingers wipe at something on Steve's cheek, gentle but sure. He can feel more now even though he's still so cold and Bucky's fingertip comes away red._

_Huh._

_Well, aren't they a pair ( **always have been** )._

_Bucky's skin is so hot in comparison, it feels like the sun burning him, like Icarus flying too high-_

_Something **hits** Bucky and then something hits **Steve** and they both **fall** -_

_Again._

_–_

_He wakes again some time later ( **minutes? Hours? Days? Months?** **Years?** ) and somehow he knows this is the second time, remembers._

_Bucky isn't in the room and he gets **defrosted** enough this time to move, to try to put up a struggle when they eventually haul him out of the metal tube and strap him into a strange chair._

_The electricity comes down hot and fast and then he's screaming as part of his life is painfully ripped away-_

_The last thing he hears is metal **screeching,** **tearing** -_

_And then Steve sleeps._

_–_

_They try again, another organization, different people, years later, and things go differently._

_Bucky doesn't get to interfere, isn't near the room this time, and they try to wipe Steve's memory completely._

_It takes a few tries to get it to stick, calibrations needing to be made ( **the first time was too low, not enough; the second time was too high and his throat is raw**), takes a few wipes for it to hold. _

_But eventually, it takes, and he doesn't know who he is anymore. Who this stranger is with long hair and dead eyes that follows him, watches his almost every move._

_Neither of them knows the 'who' or 'why,' they just are._

_–_

_He's being hosed off, facing the corner of the cement room with his hair in his face and it's cold, freezing, but he's got ice in his veins now and it's nothing in comparison, doesn't even register. It won't now unless it's cold enough to **burn**._

_They clean him this way, only enough to make sure he won't give or catch anything, keep him in working order._

_They don't touch him when they bathe him because he lashes out, no matter how much they try to punish him for it, and they especially don't when the long haired, dead eyed man is in the room with him ( **he thinks he remembers blood spraying on the wall to his left, but it's fleeting and gone almost as soon as it came** )._

_They touch him for training, for orders, for missions, for the chair, but never for this._

_They don't want to die._

_When they're done, they make him eat and then sleep. He eats everything he's given and sleeps for four hours a night. No more, no less._

_They wipe him after his mission is complete._

_-_

_He meets the partner he'll have for this mission after he's been prepped. He’s heard his owners call his soon to be partner **The Winter Soldier**. It sounds similar to what they call him. _

_The Winter Soldier has long, brown hair and eyes that won't stop following him unless they have to. They look dead, dulled even though their color is bright, especially when the two of them are walking in the snow and the man's brown hair is framing his face, blue-grey eyes like hard stones in the Winter light._

_But when they catch The Soldier's gaze, he thinks he sees something there, a spark, **something**. He doesn't have the vocabulary programmed into him for this mission to know the word for it, he's only been programmed to shoot._

_The Winter Soldier has one metal arm._

_The Soldier thinks he might have seen the flesh one, once, before ( **before, when? Just before**)._

_He shakes the thought quickly away and they go to work._

_-_

_The Soldier kills someone from long range through his scope while The Winter Soldier takes care of the rest of the targets in person in the expensive building with only a knife, pistol, and his arm._

_The Soldier keeps an eye on him through his sniper rifle._

_He shoots one of the guards on the second floor aiming for The Winter Soldier._

_The Winter Soldier turns in his direction after the man goes down and the room's cleared and looks right at him from hundreds of feet away, following the bullet trajectory, eyes finding his in the scope._

_It feels familiar, but off somehow._

_Their owners wipe them both when their mission is over, and The Soldier forgets about it._

_–_

_There are arms wrapped around his waist and he only barely remembers **something** , something before the chair and it's this, arms around him. Except what he remembers is he's supposed to be smaller than he is and so is the one behind him ( **but still bigger than him** ), with **two** flesh and blood arms around his middle instead of one and metal, warm, instead of warm and cold._

_He had disobeyed orders today. They wanted him to kill a woman with brown hair and kind brown eyes, red lips, and he froze. She had begged him, begged his owners, begged anyone that had even the slightest possibility of listening. But that wasn't what stopped him._

_It was the hair, the eyes, the shade of red on her lips. She was **familiar** to someone he knew, even though she wasn't._

_He couldn't shoot her._

_They'd tried to talk to him like kind parents, using sweet words and voices to get him to obey, and when that didn't work they yelled at him, **ordered** him. They brought in The Winter Soldier._

_They'd locked eyes and he'd shaken his head. The Winter Soldier shot her, keeping his eyes on his, cutting off her loud voice mid-word and the silence had been **deafening**._

_They beat The Soldier harder than even his **body** remembers ever being beaten, because his mind never does._

_They'd beaten him in the room with the dead woman and were about to leave, leave him lying on the floor and struggling to breathe. Something deep down inside of him had started panicking at the lack of air, chest constricting, eyes going wide just trying to drag in **breath** -_

_And then there were barking words and a large body laying down behind his, strong arms wrapping around his middle, a warm hand pressing against his chest._

_It hurt, but the yelling ceased to matter and that **something** deep inside of him calmed, drifted back below the ice._

_Their owners had closed the door and locked it behind them as they left, The Soldier staring at the dirty feet of the woman five feet away._

_He feels a phantom pain in his chest - in his **lungs** – the whole time, but nothing comes, not the cough his body is expecting nor the raspy, barely accomplished with great struggle breath he feels on the verge of taking with each one._

_The arms around his middle tighten and he closes his eyes, thinking it might help the memory become more clear._

_It doesn't._

_He falls asleep with the arms still wrapped around him and a phantom pain in his chest, and The Winter Soldier's nose pressed into the back of his neck._

_-_

_There's pain in another moment in time, and for this moment it feels like it's all he really knows. His leg is shattered and they're forcing him to stay standing on the other. There's a man standing in front of him with long hair and a slightly pinched expression, only slightly. The Soldier gets the feeling it's supposed to be more expressive, that it was a long time ago. He says as much in stilted Russian to the man observing their training._

_The man orders the guards to shatter his arm next._

_The man with the long hair's fingers twitch before curling into a tight fist._

_Somehow the reaction makes the pain worth it, even though The Soldier doesn't understand why._

_He doesn't feel the need to say anything he thinks anymore, after that…_

\- 

There's so many memories, so many thoughts tumbling and rolling and clamoring but he can hear a gradually increasing _beep- beep beep- beep beep beep-_ pulling him out of them from somewhere to his leftand he _jerks_ slightly, _shifts_ , and then his eyes are shooting open wide and he's pulling in a deep breath like he's just nearly drowned and brown hair and red lips lean over into his vision and he _blinks_ -

It's the man with the long hair, the man with the red streak across his face, the man with the one metal arm and the man in front of him. 

It's the man with the pinched expression, the man with his arms wrapped around The Soldier's waist and _The_ _Winter Soldier_ -

It's Bucky.

He's not saying anything, just staring down at Steve intently like he always does, always has, and Steve breathes and doesn't fall back asleep. They won't make him, not anymore.

And for one terrifying moment, he feels cold, feels frozen down past his bones, but then the recent memories come _rushing_ back and suddenly he's _burning instead_ -

He chokes on a _wordless_ _noise_ and Bucky leans a little closer, but doesn't touch him. 

Steve thinks Bucky might look scared this time, afraid.

Steve looks down the bed at his legs. 

His fingers clench.

He opens his mouth to say something ( _what, he doesn't know_ ) but nothing comes out.

He just stares down at his leg.


	7. Help, I'm Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to take a moment to remind everyone that these two are _fucked up_ and that this _is not a healthy relationship_. Just. In case you guys try to romanticize this. They are so attached to each other it's not good for either of them, so be careful with that. This story isn't about healthy relationships, it's about pain and loss and fucked up people living through the fucked up side of the world that most other people don't even get a glimpse of/don't see.
> 
> And also I'm not sure what it's called since the definition for 'shock' didn't match what Steve is doing, but I've personally done it before and it's...it's like you just completely check out, almost. You drift on this unshakable, blank calm and still act completely normal until something triggers the domino and everything just collapses and rushes out of you like tidal wave. So. Beware of that if you're...triggered by anything like that? There's a lot of emotional stuff going on in this chapter that might be...uncomfortable for some people? And descriptions of things, I guess. Just. I mean if you're reading this it's probably obvious by now that I write uncomfortable, dark, terrible things? So just. Yeah keep that in mind for almost every chapter I write. I'll try to put specific warnings, like I have been, on chapters with particular things. This one's just...an emotional collapse from someone who's been through a lot of terrible shit.

He's quiet for three days straight after that. He still brushes his teeth, showers, eats, does the exercises he knows he needs to and works around the lack of a right leg, which is difficult, but he adjusts.

The end of his right leg feels a little heavier than it should be when he tries to move it, like the end is a little weighted. He has a feeling he knows why, but it's still bandaged and he shouldn't remove them right now, so he decides to push the feeling aside and ignore it for the time being.

Bucky doesn't try to get him to talk after the once on the second day. All he asks is, “Steve?” and Steve stays silent, can't form a single thought to respond, so Bucky doesn't push. It's similar to what happened with Rumlow, except in every way that it's not.

He's allowed to go wherever he pleases in the Tower, JARVIS informed him a few minutes after he got his breathing back under control the first time he woke, but he stays in the med lab. Isolates himself. He tolerates Bucky's presence when he's with Steve in the med lab (which is a lot of the time) even though a growing part of him wants to throw him out, hit him, _something_. Bucky's not there all the time. Steve knows he tries to make himself leave because he _knows_ Steve needs space, because _he_ needed it when he lost his arm, even though he never got it. And some tiny part of Steve appreciates it, even though most of him can't bring himself to feel anything, in fact feels little to nothing at all.

The strange thing is, he still feels the leg into the third day, even if most of the time it's pain. Some logical part of him is aware that this is called a ' _phantom limb_ ,' and that it will mostly pass over time, but the rest of him is thrown by it. He wakes from a two hour sleep later in the third day and forgets, goes to get out of the medical bed and falls to the floor. Bucky isn't in the room when this happens and he's back up on the bed long before he comes back, but by the look on Bucky's face, even though he tries to hide it, he knows, and Steve sits and thinks for an hour about the fact that he's being monitored.

There's anger growing, simmering low in his chest, and he decides the fact that he's being monitored throws another log on the fire of his anger. He's quickly growing tired of being _watched_.

On the fifth day, Steve's reading on the bed while Bucky's leaned back with his legs spread wide in a chair to his left, playing a handheld video game with the sound muted.

Bucky had relayed from Banner ( _Bruce Banner, The Hulk, first target in initiated distraction plan_ ) that the bandages around his leg could be removed, so he had right there and then, no point in avoiding it. His fingers didn't even shake.

When the bandages came off he was both surprised and unsurprised at what he found. There was steel plating covering the end of his leg, going up a few inches past where most of the scar tissue is, though the edges of it are visible above the metal, branching out like slightly raised cracks in his skin. Like Bucky's arm. He didn't have to check to guess that his nerve endings were wired into it, also like Bucky's arm.

Logically, he understood. They wouldn't have been able to do this later, if they waited, at least not as well. The nerves would have been exposed too long, his healing would have already been close to completion so they would have had to either cut into it or cut more off ( _like Bucky; Zola overseeing everything_ ) just to get at what was underneath the heavy amount of numbed scar tissue.

He'd glanced over at Bucky and their eyes had met.

“We weren't sure, and there wasn't time,” Bucky starts. He's got that scared look in his eyes again, but he's trying to mask it, hide it, trying to get something else across. “It can still be removed if you want. No one's going to make you keep it,” Bucky finishes, standing his ground, but Steve knows he'll yield to whatever he decides. Bucky understands, Steve knows.

His eyes drift back to his leg and he looks at it for a long, few minutes, not really sure how to feel. Part of him feels something akin to violation, betrayal, while the logical part of him understands, but they're dulled, far away feelings. Mostly he just... _can't_ feel anything, nothing but a wall of blank and it worries him, but he can't seem to force a reaction so he doesn't try. Instead, he leans back against the small mound of pillows at the top end of the bed and grabs one of the books off of the night stand to his left that Bucky brought, and opens it to the first page.

Steve used to read a lot before and during the war, brought more than a few books with him to the training camp for the Super Soldier Program to read while the other candidates wrestled and sparred with each other, rough housed in ways he couldn't. Bucky used to read some, too, but smart as he was he didn't have the patience for it as much as Steve did. He was always moving, always going somewhere except when he was tired or came back drunk to their shared apartment, or Steve was having trouble breathing in the night. The video game makes sense, it's distracting and active even when Bucky's not moving, engaging. They're neither of them quite as they were. Steve may be the most similar to how he was, has retained more of his older traits. Bucky isn't as eager to bound off as he used to be, he's calmer now, quieter, but he's slowly been getting some of his older traits back as well, even if they're now more worn with age (and other things).

Steve almost wants to laugh at their choices in entertainment, the differences in who they are now and the similarities they still have, still gain, to who they were. How some old traits still manage to find their way back even if they've become different creatures entirely, but he can't bring himself to even summon a smile.

Bucky has no use for a medical bed now, hasn't technically since Steve woke, and even though the chair doesn't look comfortable he sits in it most days and nights, keeping watch and standing guard and waiting. Whether he's standing guard to keep the others away from Steve, or Steve away from the others, Steve's not sure, though he's starting to think it's the latter. But he can't bring himself to care.

Bucky got the video game yesterday, from who he doesn't know. All he knows is that before then Bucky was bouncing his knee and exercising enough for the both of them while Steve recovered, so he supposes he should be grateful to whoever it was that gave it to him (he's thinking it might have been Tony).

Then, for the first time in five days, Steve talks.

“I know it's gone,” he starts, voice a little raspy from lack of use.

Bucky swiftly pauses the game and looks up, but Steve keeps his eyes on the page of the book he's currently reading, something he's noticed the publishing date on it says is from the fifties.

Bucky waits, patient, silent. His body is so relaxed Steve can tell it's a ruse, that he's really trying to keep himself calm.

He can't bring himself to care, about any of it, and tells him as much.

“I know that it's gone, but I can't bring myself to feel anything,” he continues after a few moments, voice a raspy calm, neutral, just this side of quiet, “I shower, I brush my teeth, I eat, sleep, exercise. But it's all routine. I don't really _feel_ any of it. I _can't_ make myself feel anything. It feels like I'm a machine all over again.”

Bucky doesn't say anything, waits for Steve to finish.

Steve looks up at him. “I think I'm in denial, Buck,” he finishes almost nonchalantly, eyes going back down to the book after a few moments and scanning the rest of the words on the page.

He turns it to the next one.

Bucky's silent for a few minutes of his own, Steve can practically _hear_ him thinking, absorbing Steve's words.

“You will,” he says finally, quietly, but voice firm, sure.

Steve doesn't say anything because he knows Bucky's right, just lets his eyes skim down the page.

Bucky goes back to his game.

-

On the seventh day Steve finally decides to leave the room. There a large closets off to the side of the beds to Steve's right and he hops over; it's not hard when he's not forgetting about his leg, he's been trained in balance and to deal with worse.

Bucky's not in the med lab at the moment; Steve's not sure where he is. He doesn't dwell on it.

He slides open the largest closet and takes quick stock of its viewable contents before shutting down the part of his brain that wants to catalog everything and decipher which items can best be used to disarm and kill. He's looking for something in particular.

Bucky had relayed to him from Stark that there would be crutches in this closet, and after a few seconds he finds them.

He grabs a pair from a batch of them mostly hidden on the left behind hanging robes, leaning against one of the cabinets in the closet as he adjusts their length to fit his body, hopping back and sliding the closet door closed once he's finished.

The anger that's been simmering low in his chest has banked so he makes his way to the door of the med lab, slowly, waiting for it to slide open before he makes his way down the hall to the elevator. The rhythmic _click- click- click-_ of the crutches echo in the space.

Steve presses the elevator call button.

He gets in when the doors finish sliding open and presses a button at random.

JARVIS doesn't talk, doesn't tell him he shouldn't go to the floor he selected or ask him how he's doing.

He doesn't have anywhere in particular he wants to go, can't think of a set destination, and wouldn't be able to answer, anyway. He just can't bring himself to care.

–

He ends up going out onto the large, outside area of the fiftieth floor, sitting in one of the set out chairs off to the side and out of sight of the floor's large, floor to ceiling windows ( _probably Natasha's doing_ ) and looking out over the city, wind from the high altitude dancing through his wild hair. It's quiet, up here, only the occasional car horn or pedestrian chatter reaching his ears on a breeze. Steve stays out there for a long time, just sitting and watching afternoon pass by into evening, the sun going from high to tilting down into sunset towards night. The colors streak across the sky in warm hues: golds, pinks, and oranges.

It's beautiful, and it makes him angry.

His fingers twitch for a knife rather than paints. His fist curls to hit rather than grip a canvas. His eyes focus and he sees dried blood in the warm hues rather than flower petals in the Spring. His breath quickens out of anger rather than excitement. His body tenses to get up and maim rather than take a seat at an easel and paint.

But he doesn't move, doesn't get up like he wants to do any of those things. He stays seated, and calms his rapid breathing; it's harder to do than it should be.

When the sun's finally shining its last rays across the city and lighting the metallic buildings on fire with its reflective light, he rises stiffly from the chair, shifting his crutches as he goes and sliding them back under his arms, slowly making his way back towards the outside area's door.

Objectively, he knows it's starting to get cold. Fall is practically on the season's doorstep and the nights are quickly growing colder, regardless of how warm the sun makes it look, but he doesn't feel it. Doesn't feel anything but that wall of blank and the simmering rage banked low in his chest. He lets out a quiet sigh amidst the sound of the crutches on the cement ground and takes a minute to get the door open, and goes inside.

The room's large screen tv is on to his left, playing some movie he doesn't recognize, and there's people sitting at the couch watching it (Natasha, Clint, Banner, Thor, _Bucky_ ), Tony in the kitchen. Everyone's eyes land on him.

He freezes.

He didn't even notice that this floor was the communal floor, didn't even notice that there were people in it.

His fists squeeze the grips on the crutches tighter. _Sloppy_.

He turns and starts to head towards the hall that leads to the elevator, not looking at any of them. He's not sure if what he's feeling is _shame_ , he hasn't felt it in so long he honestly wouldn't be able to identify it if he _was_ feeling it. He just knows he doesn't want to be here, doesn't want to be around these people, around _any_ people. He just wants to be alone, because if he isn't, he might do something he regrets, and he's not going to be able to _stop_. He knows he won't.

“Hey Rogers,” Tony tries greeting, but he just keeps going.

“Steve,” Bucky calls out. He hears him get up from the couch, getting closer. He keeps going.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky tries again. Steve stops, grits his teeth. The anger's quickly building in his chest and his hands are starting to shake. He's going to lash out, he's going to do something he can't take back, and he won't be able to _stop_ -

“Are you okay?” Tony asks, and Steve sees Bucky tense almost immediately out of the corner of his eye, must realize it's the _worst_ thing to ask him right now.

He only got a few feet away from the door, didn't even make it halfway to the hall.

He turns sharply, as sharply as he _can_ turn with crutches and shoots a glare at the room before landing on Tony. The anger and rage finally builds up and spills over.

“ _Do I fucking **look** okay?!_ ” he snaps, yells. Everyone in the room freezes and he sees Bucky's eyes widen slightly before glancing to Natasha, sending her some sort of signal he's not familiar with because it's not for him, it's _about_ him. And it's with _her_. And every little thing he's got built up inside of him finally comes to the surface.

Natasha motions to Clint, Banner, and Stark to clear the room, Thor already moving and Steve thinks he, out of everyone, excluding Bucky, probably gets it. They all try to quickly make themselves scarce while his eyes shift and he yells at Bucky, because Bucky's the only thing he can really focus on, is _always_ the only real thing Stevecan focus on, good or bad.

“It's 2014 when it should be 1944! We fell off a fucking _train_ and couldn't just _die peacefully_ in the _snow_ , they had to find us, take us, split us up! Take even a _peaceful death_ _away from us_ along with _everything else!_ And fucking _Zola_ watching me with that _fucking smile_ and the only thing I could move was my eyes and my tongue and I couldn't let myself sleep because I _couldn't_ let myself feel _completely helpless_ even when I _was!_ While they poked and prodded at me like some fucking _lab rat_ in a _science lab!_ Even Erskine wasn't cruel, not like that Bucky, not like _that._ ” He's breathing hard and Bucky listens, lets Steve tear into him, the only parts of Bucky that tense the two tightly clenched fists at his sides. He has no illusions that the others can hear him as they make their ways down the hall, still too soon to really get any of this out in any sense of private, but he can't bring himself to _care_.

“And then they froze me and when I woke up you didn't even _know_ me,” Steve starts again, anguish in his voice, “And you slaughtered all those people for _me_. Because of _me_. And then I was frozen again, felt like my blood was turned to _ice_ and I couldn't fucking _breathe_ , like I was having another asthma attack and you weren't _there_. And then the _table_. And the _chair_. Trying to dissect my mind and body like that's all I was, an _experiment_. And then I was put to sleep _again_. Locked in that fucking tube like a _doll_ in a _**box**_. You _**know**_. And then they _broke_ me, Bucky. Broke _both_ of us while they made us _watch_ and then would coddle us later like _children,_ like their damn broken _pets_. And then they wanted me to shoot that _woman,_ who reminded me so much of _Peggy_ but I didn't understand _any of that_ at the time, couldn't even _remember_ Peggy, just knew that I _couldn't do it_ , _damn the consequences_. And you shot her instead, looked at me while doing it, like you were taking that pain _for me_ even if you didn't know _why._ And they beat me so bad I couldn't even _breathe,_ and you wrapped yourself around me like you did when you were _just_ Bucky, like I was having something as simple as an _asthma attack_ instead of all of my _ribs_ broken, but you didn't even understand _why you were doing it_. You didn't _understand,_ but you still _did it_ and that _breaks me_.”

There's tears streaming down his face and the crutch handles are warped and twisted from where his hands have gripped them too tightly. He falls back slightly and his back hits the wall, one of the crutches drop and he bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

He sees Bucky take a step forward through the tears but stops himself, knows Steve won't let him touch him right now, not yet.

“And now we're _here_ ,” Steve’s voice is cracked, shaky, “Here in this weird future that doesn't even have _flying cars_ where we can both hack our ways into military databases like it's child's play but can't even work a fucking _microwave._ ” He lets out a humorless laugh. It turns hysterical for a few minutes before he makes it stop, sliding down the wall ungracefully to sit on the floor roughly, other crutch landing with a loud _thunk_.

“And you've got some weird relationship with _Natalia_ that I will never understand or be a part of, will never have that part of you and it's _fine_ , but it also _isn't_ because you're all I _have_ , and even if you _don't_ have me you'll always have some part of _her_ -” he cuts himself off with a sob. “And we finally got away, but we _didn't_. And they're still _out there_ and still _after us_ like some _plague_ and I don't think we'll ever get away...” he trails off, knows he sounds like a small child but doesn't care, “And they took _your arm_. And now they've taken _my leg_. Bucky, they took my _leg_ , it's _gone_. _**My leg is gone**_.” And it hits him like a fucking truck and his breathing picks up even more, world a blur of tears in his wide, unseeing eyes that have somehow dropped from Bucky to the floor, shifting to his right leg. It's _**gone**_.

He hears quick steps and sees fast motion to his left before he feels a cool hand on his right shoulder and a warm one at the back of his neck, pulling him in so his face is pressed into Bucky's neck, blocking his right leg from view. Bucky's on his knees at Steve's left side, pressing in close. Steve can feel him shaking.

Steve's arms quickly wrap around the back of Bucky's neck, pulling him in tightly and sobbing into Bucky's overwarm skin. He can feel Bucky's tears in his hair.

“ _ **Bucky**_ ,” he lets out almost like a high pitched whine into the skin of Bucky's neck. It's all he has left to say, after _everything_ , the only thing there is _ever_ left to say. Because it's _true,_ all _he has_ is Bucky.

He feels hollowed out.

Bucky presses his metal hand to the back of Steve's head, fingers clenching into the back of his skull almost painfully hard as he holds him there. Steve can feel Bucky's hard breaths pushing their chests somehow even closer together.

“I _know_ ,” Bucky chokes out into his hair, “Steve, I _**know**_.”

Steve digs his fingers into Bucky's shirt and the skin beneath, letting out a pained sound.

Bucky shushes him, pulling back after a few moments.

“Bucky, _I'm sorry_ ,” Steve starts, staring up at him with wide eyes, “ _ **I'm sorry**_. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_ -”

Bucky shushes him again, presses kisses to his eyes, his forehead, the tears running down Steve's cheeks.

“Shh, I _**know**_ ,” Bucky says, and Steve closes his eyes to the onslaught, still holding onto him tightly, “I know, _I know_. I'm sorry, too. _ **I'm so sorry, Steve**_.”

Steve opens his eyes, shaking his head before Bucky stops him with a kiss, pressing their lips together hard while Steve looks at Bucky's closed eyes, Bucky opening them when he pulls back. He presses in again and this time Steve closes his eyes as they kiss desperately, pressing into each other like they're trying to become one person, and maybe they are. The only sounds in the whole room are their harsh breaths and slick lips sliding against each other.

They both start to calm after a few minutes of it, Bucky pulling back and Steve chasing him, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

They stay like that for a while, neither of them sure how long, but long enough for their breaths to start easing out, quieting down in the near silent room.

“I'm sorry,” Steve almost whispers after a while, eyes opening to look at Bucky who's pulled back slightly to shake his head.

“Don't, don't be sorry, I told you,” Bucky says quietly, pressing another kiss to Steve's lips briefly, “And I won't be either, yeah?”

Steve nods slightly after a moment, eyes closing again for a few minutes.

They're both quiet in the silent space, grips loosening enough to become comfortable rather than painful and desperate.

Finally, “I want to take them down, Buck,” Steve says firmly, opening his eyes again to look into blue-gray.

Bucky doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just stares at him, gauges him.

Finally, he nods, warm hand sliding around from the back of Steve's neck to cup his cheek.

“Let's make them pay, for _everything_. Let's get rid of them, for good; Pierce, S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra. No more,” Bucky says, steel in his voice.

Steve swallows once before nodding, the steel in his eyes matching Bucky's.

“No more,” he agrees, eyes locked, “I'm with you, 'till the end of the line, Buck. Until we're no more, until they're no more, and after if there's anything after that. I'll follow you anywhere, forever.” They'll get rid of Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., all of it, together.

Bucky's eyes widen slightly before melting, cracking a small smile and smoothing a thumb across Steve's wet cheek, “'Till the end of the line, whatever happens, wherever we go,” he says, leaning into to press his lips to Steve's, the only promise they'll ever make because it's not really a promise, it's a truth. Hydra will die, even if they have to go along with it, but they will go together.


	8. You never give up when I'm falling apart, your arms are always open wide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some dealings with nerve endings in here.

Bucky takes Steve back to the med lab, carrying the warped crutches in his right arm while he has his left wrapped around Steve's waist to support him as they walk, Steve's right arm around the back of his neck as Bucky helps him down the hall and into the elevator. Bucky's first thought had been to carry him, carry the burden, but he'd quickly, if reluctantly, discarded the idea. It would only make Steve feel worse, feel _less_ than he was, degraded, and Bucky wouldn't do that to him.

“So I met Thor,” he says on their way down, the elevator quiet otherwise.

Steve turns his head slightly to look at him, both eyebrows raised in response.

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “He's something.”

“I bet,” Steve says quietly, lips quirking up a little at the edges. Seeing it makes Bucky's heart a bit lighter.

“I asked what they wanted to do for entertainment and he offered a drinking contest,” Bucky says.

Steve huffs a quiet sound, eyes back on the elevator doors. “I'm sure he would have won.”

Bucky makes an indignant sound right before the elevator doors slide open. They slowly start moving forward.

“I've had more Russian Vodka over the past seventy years than I can count the liters of,” Bucky starts, cocky smirk turning up his mouth, “I would've drank him under the table.”

Steve makes a noncommittal sound, one eyebrow slightly raised as they make their way towards the med lab doors, sending him a quick look.

“I would've,” Bucky insists, mostly just to keep Steve's mood the lightest he's seen it in a week. They get inside.

Steve makes another noncommittal sound as they reach the bed and Bucky shifts and releases him as Steve sits.

“You're supposed to be on my side,” Bucky grumbles as he walks over to lean the twisted crutches against the large closet against the right wall. He turns back around and Steve's got an unimpressed expression on his face. Bucky can see how tired he is under their bantering.

“I remember you saying something similar when you got into a drinking contest with Dum Dum and you ended up so drunk you couldn't stay sat up in your chair,” Steve says, shifting the sheets back to maneuver himself in underneath, “And I clearly remember Dum Dum still being at least half more sober than you were after the same amount. Seventy years of Vodka or no, from the little I've seen of Thor he seems akin to Dum Dum. I somehow doubt _you'll_ be the one drinking _him_ under the table.”

Bucky's expression goes indignant, taking up residence in the chair he'd dragged over to the right side of the bed a week ago. “Yeah, but Dum Dum was _always_ drinking. I haven't seen Thor pull out a keg the whole time I've seen him in the Tower.”

Steve makes a small scoffing noise, eyes closed as he rests back against the pillows. “Doesn't mean he doesn't drink his way through barrels back on his home world,” Steve replies drowsily.

Now it's Bucky's turn to make a noncommittal sound, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable and settled in for the night.

They go quiet as Steve tries to sleep, shifting restlessly.

Finally, after a few minutes of turning and shifting this way and that, Steve's eyes crack open and he scoots to the far side, looking at Bucky while he lifts the sheet.

Bucky doesn't hesitate, just moves over and slides in. It's a tight fit, the two of them crammed onto the bed, but he slides his right leg between Steve's, careful of Steve's right leg, and wraps his arms around Steve's waist, pulling him in close. Steve curls his arms up between them, shifting one up to rest his left hand against the side of Bucky's face for a moment as he leans in, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“'Night, Bucky,” Steve near whispers in the tiny space between them, breaths huffing warm across his face.

“'Night, Stevie,” Bucky near whispers back, watching Steve until he hears his breaths go deep and even before letting his own eyes drift closed, following Steve into sleep soon after.

–

Steve wakes him four hours later with a scream and they both jerk awake, Steve staring at him wide eyed before shoving his face into Bucky's chest, body shaking and arms winding around his back. Bucky holds him until he calms down, holds him until Steve decides to pull back on his own. He doesn't go far, the bed is small, and Bucky offers to sit in the chair but Steve quickly shakes his head before pressing his forehead into Bucky's chin.

He's asleep again within the next hour and Bucky stays awake the whole time, making sure he is, grimacing in the dark. Steve was starting to be able to sleep without waking up near every night, and now Hydra's managed to fuck him up again. _He's not letting it happen anymore._ Even if that’s a promise he’s not sure he can keep - _for either of them_.

He wakes before Steve another four hours later, sheets disheveled and ending up halfway on the floor some time during the night, exposing most of them.

Bucky waits until Steve shifts slightly and slowly blinks his eyes open before moving, leaning forward to press his lips to Steve's forehead and then sliding out of the bed, stretching his arms above his head. He's about to move before he gets an idea, aware of the eyes on his back.

“I'm going to go take a shower,” he starts, turning back to look at Steve, “Wanna come?” he offers.

Steve stares at him for a few moments, eyes going slightly wide before he closes them and nods, shifting to sit up.

Bucky goes to the closet to grab a new pair of crutches before heading back over, rounding the bed and handing them off to Steve, who takes them and slides them under his arms, getting up off of the bed and following Bucky over to the med lab's showers.

The med lab takes up the whole thirtieth floor, so it's been outfitted with easy to reach bathrooms and large showers, designed with various and full body injuries in mind. There's plenty of space to move, handle bars and railings, ramps and chairs designed into the large, warm colored space. There's even a gigantic, low raised tub with a few stairs so someone could either walk up into it or sit on the edge and maneuver themselves inside.

Bucky heads over to one of the larger shower stalls, sized to accommodate at least four people in it all at once. The floors of the whole room are textured and not tile, so Steve's crutches maneuver fine without causing any worry for slipping.

Admittedly, the whole place is luxurious, even if it is designed for optimal use. They've never been in a place this grand, never for anything other than an assignment or a mission, and the Tower as a whole is almost surreal to be in, let alone _stay_ in. One of the bathrooms _alone_ is larger than their whole old _apartment_. They both try not to think about it too much, doing so might actually drive them a little more insane.

Bucky sheds his clothes before turning on the shower, setting them on one of the shelves at the opposite end just outside the shower stall while Steve sits on one of the built in seats near the entrance to it and does the same. Bucky doesn't offer to help, won't do that to Steve. Besides, Steve knows he's there if he needs him for anything, he'll ask if he wants or needs the help.

Steve leans the crutches against the seat and uses the handholds and railings to make his way over and stand under the spray where Bucky already is, whose dark hair is wet and pushed out of his face.

Steve's about to reach for one of the small, distributed body wash bottles before Bucky reaches out and stops him, catching with a hand on Steve's wrist. He gives Steve a questioning look before speaking.

“I want to do something. Please?” he asks.

Steve stares at him for a minute, eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“It's not out of pity, you know I wouldn't do that to you,” Bucky continues, voice firm but gentle, unaccusing.

Steve finally relents with a nod, leaning out of the way of the water while sliding his free hand up through his hair, pushing his bangs up out of his face. Bucky grabs up the bottle Steve had been reaching for and pours some of the body wash out into his hand, setting the bottle down and rubbing his hands together while he gets out of the way of the water, moving in closer to Steve then rubbing it firmly but gently over his warmed skin.

He takes his time, lets his fingers massage into flesh and work out knotted muscle. Steve gradually becomes more and more relaxed, enough so that he has to sit down on a seat closer to the shower spray or he'll fall down, eyes falling closed under Bucky's attention and ministrations.

Bucky makes sure to clean all of him, lingering out of care instead of any sexual desire on his neck, chest, stomach, between his legs and down his thighs. He kneels in front of Steve as he slides both hands down Steve's left calf, lower to his ankle, and massages his foot firm but gentle, hears Steve let out a sigh and looks up to see his eyes closed, expression slack.

He's been worn thin, especially since everything spilled out last night. Bucky's glad to see him relaxed for a change.

He stays knelt as his hands slide back up to Steve's left thigh, shifting them over to gently massage his right, fingertips pressing gently into the flesh. Steve's eyes open and look down at him at the touch and Bucky leans in, keeping his eyes on Steve's as he presses his lips to the metal covering the end of Steve's leg. He hears Steve's breath hitch at the motion, sees his eyes widen a little at the gesture. Bucky shifts up and presses his lips to the spidering scar tissue above the metal, and further up, just above it to the smooth flesh of Steve's thigh.

He can see the tears welling up in Steve's eyes and moves when he moves, Steve's hand coming up to slide the few strands of hair that have fallen into Bucky's eyes back as they meet in the middle, Steve leaning down and Bucky leaning up to press their lips together. He keeps his hands on Steve's right thigh, squeezing gently in return when Steve grips the back of his wet hair. Bucky watches his darkened, blonde strands when Steve leans down and presses his lips to the scar tissue at Bucky's arm, then to the metal itself, Bucky sliding his right hand up to hold onto Steve's left hip. Steve's lips on his arm are an apology and long given acceptance rolled into one, and now with understanding. Steve never thought of him any different, even when he became aware enough to find the arm itself... _different_ , Bucky knows, just like Bucky doesn't think of Steve any different now. But now they're on similar ground, now they understand each other just that bit more.

Steve leans back and his expression goes from soft to a little shocked after a few moments, eyes quickly darting down between them. Bucky follows his gaze and- Oh. _Oh_. Steve's growing hard. He'd be shocked too, if that happened to him for the first time in months.

He darts his eyes back up to Steve's and raises his eyebrows in question. Steve's eyes shift to his and he tilts his head slightly in response, expression a little hesitant as he gives a minute nod. Bucky doesn't wait for him to second guess himself, just leans down.

He uses his mouth and his hands, takes his time and is thorough, pays attention to every small detail and goes slow. Bucky takes Steve apart piece by piece and so carefully, lovingly puts him back together again. Steve's breaths go deep and shallow and his voice is soft with the sounds he makes, then loud as Bucky surprises his orgasm out of him, voice echoing off of the walls, out into the large room. Bucky knows it hits Steve unexpectedly because he wasn't aiming for it, neither of them were. His only goal was to focus on Steve, to show him with actions everything he can't say. He leaves Steve shaking by the end of it, swallowing everything.

As soon as he's done, Steve's pulling him up and kissing him like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Bucky kisses back just as much, gives what he gets but lets Steve control it, lets him plunder Bucky's mouth and taste himself there. He lets him moan and breathe past Bucky's lips into the cavern of his mouth, and Bucky takes it all in, soaks it down into himself and keeps it safe, claims every bit of Steve for his own, because he is, always will be.

Eventually, they leave the shower, Bucky shutting it off before they dry themselves and collect their clothes, redressing and heading back out to the medical lab.

Tony's waiting for them when they get there.

“Hey guys,” he says good naturedly, but Bucky can see the glint in his eyes, the _knowing_ because he heard Steve _,_ and underneath it,the wariness, the unsettled and the masked fear. Tony heard Steve yelling at him last night, too, probably watched the rest of it on the security feed just to make sure nothing went sideways during the whole thing. He saw Steve break down in ways no one else has ever seen and it unsettled Tony, because he's not used to seeing Steve - not Captain America, The Soldier, or Steve Rogers, but _Steve_. The man underlying all of it.

“Stark,” Bucky replies, Steve giving a nod at his side.

“ _'Stark'_?” Tony asks, sounding mildly offended, “We watched at least half of the original Tron together yesterday, we're way past formality.”

Bucky cracks a smile as Steve huffs a slight laugh, most of his walls back up now that they're not alone. It's still better than it was, though, and Bucky takes it.

Steve continues the rest of the way and sits down on the bed he's been occupying in the med lab, shifting to lean the crutches against its side. He lifts his head to look at Tony, eyes not giving anything away.

“You're here about my leg,” he says, not asks, straight to the point. Bucky goes back over to his post by the chair.

Tony looks a little caught off guard by the directness before pulling himself back together, giving a shrug. “And your general well being, but yeah, that too.” He comes over and stops at the end of the bed, giving Steve space while still being close. “It'll be like Robobuck's arm,” he starts, jerking a thumb in Bucky's direction while Bucky makes a face. He hasn't seen whatever Tony's referring to. Tony cracks a grin; he knows it. “But made by me, so it'll be better, obviously.”

Bucky flips Tony off with his metal finger which makes Tony laugh, Steve letting out a much quieter version of his own.

He can see the pleased surprise in Tony's expression at that before he forces a mask in place, not wanting to draw attention to it. Steve's never really laughed in the Tower, and Bucky feels a sense of pride and contentment that he managed to get Steve to a point where he could do it all.

“It'll flow easier, connect to the nerves wired into the end, which we managed to save quite a few of, so with enough calibration you'll be able to feel a variety of things, as much or as little as you want depending on how much we adjust it,” Tony continues, “It'll take a little to get used to, but it won't take nearly as long as Metal Man over there did. If you want to do it, that is. I won't make you, no one will, I'm sure Barnes relayed that to you as well. Not that he'd even let us get anywhere near you if we wanted to and you said no. Just thought you should know none of us will pressure you into it. Even though it will be pretty cool. I mean the design itself is-”

“Okay,” Steve cuts off Tony's babbling, voice and expression calm.

“I- What?” Tony asks, blinking a few times, unsure of what he just heard. He wasn't expecting it to be that easy.

“I said 'okay',” Steve replies, corners of his mouth quirking up a little in a small smile, “I'll do it, so let's get started.”

“What- I- What if it's not built yet?” Tony asks.

Steve just gives him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Mr. Stark,” he starts formally, teasing in his own way, “You've had it built since the day after we arrived,” Steve says with a hint of amusement in his tone, none of the anger Bucky, and Tony, was half expecting to be there. Bucky's relieved, in a way, that it isn't, that Steve got that out last night and knows where it should really be aimed. Tony didn't take his leg, Lukin did. Hydra did.

Tony balks for a second before he quickly recovers, straightening a bit and clapping his hands together once. “Well okay then,” he announces, “Since you've got me so figured out _Mr. Rogers_ ,” Tony returns jokingly, though they can both see the slight strain around his eyes. Right, Howard was always ' _Mr. Stark_.' At least now they know.

Steve opens his mouth to say something, what, Bucky isn't sure, but Tony just waves it away. “I get it. It's not a big deal,” he starts, the strain around his eyes lessening enough for them to know that he means it, “I'll go get it. Let's get this party started.” Tony turns and heads for the med lab doors, leaving the two of them temporarily alone.

Steve sends Bucky a look as Tony leaves the med lab, and Bucky just shrugs before giving him an amused smirk and a playful wink.

It gets a quiet laugh out of Steve.

Tony returns a short bit later with a silver leg in his arms. It's entirely different to his Iron Man suit, far more streamline with much closer anatomy to that of an actual leg, like Bucky's arm. No parts stand out from its silhouette and, unlike Bucky's arm, there are no layers of slats and panels. It's long pieces that connect almost seamlessly, but obviously still liftable and removable for repair or various other purposes.

“This will work best if you lay on the bed,” Tony starts as he approaches.

Steve shifts before laying back; Tony looks at Bucky.

“You might want to hold him down, attaching the nerve endings is going to hurt, a lot, until I can calibrate it,” Tony says, shifting the leg under an arm and pulling what resembles a wrench - but still completely different - out of his pocket. “I know you two have been through hell and your pain tolerance is ridiculously high, but I'd rather not take any chances and screw this up. It'll be worse if we have to go through this twice and drag it out even longer because we didn't take the precaution the first time.”

Bucky nods before rising out of the chair and moving over to stand next to Steve's bed, calculating for a moment before he climbs on top of him, sitting down on top of Steve's thighs and straddling him with his legs on either side of Steve's. He leans forward to put his hands on Steve's shoulders and push him slightly into the bed, looking at Steve to gauge his reaction. Steve just stares back up at him, giving a small nod to let Bucky know he's fine.

“Alright,” Tony says, coming around to hook Steve back up to the heart monitor still next to the top right of the bed before disappearing back around and out of Bucky's periphery, Steve's heartbeat monitored with a steady _beep- beep- beep-_

“I'm going to start on three,” Tony says from somewhere behind Bucky, “This is going to take a few minutes, at least, to get the multitude of wires hooked in, and it's going to hurt like a mother until I can adjust the output, understand?”

“Yes,” Steve replies, taking a deep breath before they start to speed up, like when their bodies would subconsciously start preparing them for the electric shocks of the chair. The beeps of the heart monitor increase with it, telling more than Steve's letting on.

Bucky grips Steve's shoulders firmly and Steve looks back up at him. “Watch me,” Bucky says, “Keep your eyes on me, focus _only_ on me.”

Steve gives a slight nod after a moment, pressing his teeth together so he doesn't bite through his tongue.

“Okay,” Tony speaks up from behind him again, “On three. One. Two-”

Bucky leans down a little, puts more pressure on Steve's upper body while shifting against his thighs slightly, bracing himself for the lash.

Steve's breathing speeds up with the beeps of the monitor.

“Three.”

Bucky hears something _click_ behind him and then Steve's back is bowing against the bed and the heart monitor is spiking. His yell is choked off as his fists clench and his arms go stiff at his sides before he slams them down once against the bed, lashing up a moment later to grip Bucky's biceps _hard_.

Bucky's pushed up slightly at the initial force before he pushes back against it, keeping Steve pinned to the mattress while gritting his teeth against Steve's grip on his arms. _Fuck_ he's strong. He only keeps forgetting because most of the time that force isn't _used_ on him, not anymore.

His left arm gives a slight groan and it feels like his right might be on the verge of breaking. He's definitely going to have bruises when they're done, and might need a new arm. He has the hysterical thought that at least then he and Steve really will be a matching set then, ‘ _Super Soldier limbs by Tony Stark; two of a kind_ ’.

Steve's eyes have squeezed shut and Bucky digs his fingers into the flesh of Steve's shoulders enough to get his attention. “Hey,” he says, then louder, “ _Hey_. Steve. _**Eyes on me**_.”

Steve forces his eyes open at the words, breath forced out between clenched teeth and heart monitor beeping rapidly. He forces his attention back on Bucky.

“ _That's it_ , keep them there, _keep them on me_ ,” Bucky says, giving his shoulders another squeeze, this time for encouragement, reassurance.

Bucky hears a series of sporadic clicks over the next five minutes and Steve doesn't let a single yell get past his teeth, but it's a close thing and Bucky knows it. He keeps his eyes on Bucky the whole time while the heart monitor jumps between rapid beeps and slower ones, but always in the same, upper range, never getting to an _at rest_ pace. Bucky can tell he's trying to control his breaths - to force himself into calm - they've slowed considerably since they started, even if they're still a bit fast.

“You're doing good, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly, leaning down a little closer to talk a little more privately, “We're almost there. Right Stark?” he asks louder over his shoulder.

“Right. Just three more and then I can calibrate,” Tony replies from behind Bucky.

Three clicks later and the air fills with a quiet whir from behind him. Bucky assumes it's coming from the wrench-like tool Tony had pulled out, but he casts a quick glance back over his shoulder just in case, just to make sure.

Another three minutes and Steve's breaths are slowing on their own rather than because he's forcing them, body slowly relaxing from its tensed state. The heart monitor's beeps slow with it.

Steve's grip slowly loosens over the next few minutes before he finally lets go, letting out a long sigh as his arms drop to the bed and his whole body sags against the mattress, eyes closing in relief.

“We good?” Bucky asks over his shoulder.

“Yup. We're good,” Tony says, coming around and back into his field of vision, expression victorious.

Bucky eases his grip on Steve's thighs and shoulders before leaning down, pressing his forehead to Steve's. “You did good,” he says quietly, Steve opening his eyes again to look up at him, a weary smile forming on his face. Bucky presses his lips to Steve's forehead briefly before sitting up, looking at his right arm and then his left. Yup, bruises on his right, and- He blinks. Huh. Finger indentations in his left. He can honestly say he didn't see that coming.

“Holy shit,” Tony says, eyes on the indentations, “Uh. I can fix that. I didn't think he was that strong.”

“Sorry,” he hears, looking back to see Steve wince at the damage, eyes darting up from the indentations to his eyes.

Bucky gives a shrug, jerking a thumb at Tony. “He can fix it.”

Steve gives him a layered look, but the underlying words are ( _you trust him to do that?_ )

Bucky gives another shrug after a moment with a look of his own ( _not exactly, but I'm working on it._ )

“Well then,” Tony says from his left, drawing both of their attentions, “Now all that's left is calibration for how much you want to feel on default. I've set in a way for you to adjust it on your own, the calibration is just for your standard, everyday affair.”

Bucky climbs off of Steve as Steve starts to shift and stands to the right of the bed while Steve looks down at his new leg. A series of emotions flicker across Steve's face and in his eyes and Bucky catches the shock, swiftly followed by surprise, fear, hatred, confusion, acceptance, curiosity, all in quick succession.

“So, if I want it to feel real?” Steve asks after a few moments of looking at it, eyes darting up to Tony's.

“Yup, can do,” Tony answers, expression turning proud, “Pepper's already gone and got this technology in the works of being distributed to amputees all over the world for little to nothing. I guess I was wrong when I said I only fix machines, now I can _help people_ , too. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. I guess I just...” Tony trails off in thought, shifting a little. “It never really affected me personally, which makes me sound like an asshole, but it just never came up in my world, so I didn't notice it even if it was staring me in the face. Until you. Yours is the first though,” Tony says, expression open, “And obviously made with your strength and lifestyle in mind. It will work in combat, like Barnes' arm, and hold up even better if I have anything to say about it, which, me being me, I do,” Tony finishes with a small, childlike grin.

Steve's quiet for a moment before looking at Bucky. “How much sensation do you-”

“ _No_ , Steve, no,” Bucky cuts him off, shaking his head and crossing his arms, ignoring the slight creak from the now damaged section of his left, “This is for _you_.”

“I want what you have Buck,” Steve says firmly, “I want to be equal, no more and no less than you.”

They stare at each other for a long moment in a silent competition of wills before something occurs to Bucky and he turns his head to look at Stark. “Can you make adjustments to this as well?” he asks, lifting his left fist to indicate his arm.

Tony's expression goes contemplative for a moment as he looks at it before his eyes shift to Bucky's. “Maybe. It was made so long ago I'm not even sure if the setup is close enough for me to make it feel nearly real, like Steve's,” he replies honestly, “The original tech attaching the main components to your body are _ancient_ in the world of technology, even if the rest of it has been updated over the years and it's still impressive today, and holds up like a tank. The fact is, when they _built_ and _installed_ it into your body, they may not have been _able_ to keep the same nerve endings in tact, or even _bothered_ with it at all,” he finishes, disgust at the thought in his voice and in his face.

“I'm not giving you an answer until we know,” Steve says a few moments later, steel in his eyes and voice. His mind's made up and neither of them are going to be able to change it; he won't be moved on this, even if Bucky wants him to be.

Bucky looks at him for a long moment before shifting his gaze back to Stark. This is really trying his trust issues.

“Can you scan it,” he says more than asks, unable to keep the note of dread out of his voice.

Tony's expression softens a little before going firm again. “Yeah, I can. I know you don't fully trust me, both of you,” he says, glancing between the two of them, “I know you don't really trust any of us, and I don't blame you. But I'm going to be as straight with you as I can, when it counts. You _can_ trust me, and I'm going to prove it to both of you, no matter how long it takes. You guys need more trustworthy people in your lives, even if I'm not exactly the best person to start with.” Tony cracks a small grin.

They're both quiet for a moment, each studying Tony in their own ways while Tony keeps himself still for it. Finally, Bucky gives a nod, Steve following his decision.

“Alright,” Tony says before looking up at the ceiling, “JARVIS.”

“ _Yes, Sir?_ ”

“We're going to run a scan on Barnes.”

“ _Sir._ ”

Holograms fill the room in a circular layout all around them. Bucky turns slightly to take them all in, eyes a little wide. He can see Steve doing the same out of the corner of his eye. They've seen all sorts of things, but this is something _else,_ something _different_.

“Ready?” Tony asks, looking at Bucky directly.

Bucky shifts his gaze back to Tony, giving him a nod after a moment.

A light falls on him from the ceiling, scanning down, up, then side to side across his whole body before it shuts off. A moment later, a hologram of him appears in front of Tony over the edge of the bed, drawing all their attentions.

“Alright, let's see...” Tony trails off, studying the scan results.

“It looks like the metal plating they've got covering the scar tissue has sections grafted to your spine and left shoulder blade and rib cage,” Tony starts a few minutes later, turning the hologram with a finger in thin air to point at the coinciding sections, “And it looks like they only bothered with half of the nerve endings Steve's got, mostly the ones used for function of the arm itself. There's enough there that I could give you some sensation and increase what's already there: pressure sensitivity, temperature sensitivity, but not much beyond that. It also looks like there's some internal damage in the arm that happened recently, aside from Steve's ironclad grip, that could use some fixing, and obviously it could use an update, but that's about all there is.”

Bucky studies the readout for a few minutes before looking over to Steve, who shifts his eyes from the hologram to him.

“The same,” Steve says after a few moments.

Bucky sets his hands on his hips, trying to stare him down. It's pointless, he knows it is, but he has to try.

Steve sits up straighter and squares his shoulders, not backing down.

Bucky lets out a sigh when he realizes this isn't going anywhere, gives in and lets his hands drop.

“So fucking stubborn,” he grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Steve's raised eyebrows:

( _you're one to talk._ ) 

“Shuddup,” he mumbles, shifting his focus back to Tony. “Alright. But only if you can make it adjustable like Steve's,” he says, nodding his head slightly in Steve's direction, “I don't want to have to worry about deflecting bullets and knives in battle and having to feel every damn one.”

“No problem,” Tony replies, gesturing to the bed for Bucky to sit while he pulls the chair Bucky's been occupying for almost a full week up to the side of it and taking a seat, “Want me to get rid of that red star while I'm at it?”

Bucky glances at his shoulder before looking at Steve. Steve's eyes go unreadable so he looks back to Tony, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “No, not yet.”

“Have it your way,” Tony says, reaching up, “But the offer still stands for whenever you're ready.” He shifts his gaze to look at Steve, too. “Both of you.”

They're both quiet.

Tony hums AC/DC while he works.


	9. Blinding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex. Also this chapter got really long fjdksl. I was going to stop after a certain point but then STEVE. So I couldn't. STEVE NEEDED ME. [/inside joke]
> 
> Also unexpected flirting? Um. Welp. fjdksl.
> 
> Also thank you thank you thank you to my beta because my brain is a jumbled chaotic mess and she fixes it and makes it make more sensssssssse fjdkslfjdsl.
> 
>  **Please Read:** I've added an extra tag/spoiler/explanation thing at the bottom of this chapter in the end notes for something that occurs in the chapter because it might be upsetting for some people. So if you're unsure about it and want to check, please read that first. If you're upset after having read what happens in this chapter, please also read what's at the bottom after you're done reading the chapter.

Tony works on repairs while Bucky watches, Steve laid out behind him on the bed and book in hand, but Bucky knows he's keeping an eye on Tony, too. He feels Steve shift his right leg occasionally behind him, hard metal barely brushing his back through his t-shirt as Steve checks it out. He hears a quiet disgruntled sound every so often and reaches back with his right hand without looking to grip Steve's upper thigh once or a twice, giving a gentle squeeze of reassurance, just to let Steve know he's there. The sounds subside after a few minutes but the leg still moves, the backs of Steve's knuckles purposefully brushing his when Steve lowers the book to his lap as he reads: ( _thank you_.)

After an hour, Tony finishes the repairs with a flourish, gesturing grandly while Bucky stares at him. Tony lets out a sigh and looks to the ceiling as he orders JARVIS to run another full body scan, just for Bucky's benefit. Bucky looks it over thoroughly, knows Steve is subtly doing the same between reading lines on the pages of his book, but he still checks the arm itself just to make sure instead of relying solely on the readout.

Tony slaps a hand over his heart and makes a wounded face like they've just destroyed his newest Iron Man suit and his entire stock of berry packets, but they both know he doesn't really take it personally that they don't entirely trust him.

They spend the rest of the day helping Steve adjust to his new leg, or Bucky helps Steve when Steve lets him while Tony snacks through a packet of blueberries and yells out technical instructions and teasing criticisms from the left side of the room.

Mostly, Steve stumbles his way through it on his own. “Because you're a stubborn ass,” Bucky says with his arms crossed over his chest. Steve just glares at him from where he's leaning heavily against one of the cabinets attached to the right wall.

“Shut up, Jerk,” Steve huffs out, pushing himself back to his feet and taking a few more wobbly steps.

Bucky knows Tony saw the surprise on his face, but he's quick to push it aside and reply, “Punk,” with a grin on his lips.

Tony makes some comment about “Walking like The Little Mermaid” that neither of them get, but JARVIS calmly informs them that it's a Disney movie that was released in 1989. This takes them both by surprise and JARVIS offers to pull up the scene, but they both quickly shout “ _No!_ ” to the ceiling and make a mental note to look up how many Disney movies they've missed since 1943. Steve loved the animation, and while Bucky wasn't as great of an artist, he loved it, too.

It's slow going, but by eight at night Steve can walk the length of the room from end to end with little problem. He's moving amazingly fast and Bucky helps (“Stop trying to treat it like it's the same one from before, acknowledge that it's different but now a part of you”) and Tony tries (“No, no- Damn it Rogers don't kick the cabinets I just got the doors painted _last_ _week_ -”). Well, mostly Tony just acts as referee and defender of the room, more so because _Pepper_ was actually the one in charge of getting the maintenance and painting scheduled and done and Tony doesn't want to cross her more than he already does, especially with a leg that _he_ made.

Steve's worn out by ten and they call it a night, regardless of Steve's stubborn look (“We'll do more tomorrow, you've already come a long way just since getting it on,” Bucky tells him). Tony informs them that he's running scans for any Hydra activity when Steve asks, and that Clint, Natasha, Fury, and Coulson all have their ears to the ground for any sign, but so far nothing's happened so there's not much they can do. He also informs them that he's trying to hack into the Kronas organization's system files, but even crippled by the loss of its CEO and the damage done to the building, they're still keeping a tight lock on their system, maybe even more so _because_ of what happened. It's Hydra's move unless they can find _something_. They don't like it, their grim expressions making that abundantly clear, but they accept what Tony says, for now, and decide to strategize tomorrow.

Tony leaves with a, “See ya tomorrow _Robobuck_ and _Steve3PO!_ ” which confuses them both, but he's gone before they can even consider asking what the fuck he's talking about, decline when JARVIS offers to explain, and chalk it up to twenty-first century bullshit and go to bed.

Steve wakes him twice with his screams and refuses to be coddled the first time, not that Bucky thinks of it as coddling, but he understands. Steve lets himself curl into Bucky after the second time and tells him that he dreamed of Lukin, that Lukin took his leg, but that after doing that made Steve watch as he took Bucky's other arm, too.

Bucky strokes his hair after, purposefully messing it up after a while just to distract Steve, who makes an indignant noise and swats at his hand. Bucky calls it a win when they wake up fully in the early morning for the third time without either of them screaming, and Steve looks a little more rested. Not relaxed, per se, but like he can face another day.

They slowly increase the distances Steve walks over the next week, gradually moving out of the lab, into the bathrooms and showers, and soon covering the whole floor. Eventually, they take the elevator to random floors and their walks go from minutes to hours, Steve quickly becoming accustomed and accepting of the new leg. He's also walking steadier, stumbles much less, and doesn't need to hold onto the wall as often, which is progress.

Steve still doesn't really see any of the others in the Tower, mainly choosing to stay in the med lab. Bucky knows he goes to the other floors because he'll sometimes check back on the room and find it empty, mostly when he's gone for a few hours to visit with Natasha or join the others in their “movie night” (and vetoing any Disney movies that Tony and Clint suggest). It's still strange for him, being around the other Avengers who aren't Natasha (and even that's strange in its own way), but behind the walls he puts up, it's tolerable, less alien than it really feels.

Tony's tried to keep him updated on the surveillance of the med lab, but after it became apparent that Steve was rebuilding himself after his breakdown, he declined. He didn't want to spy on Steve, didn't want to keep tabs on him like their owners did. Once he knew Steve was fine ( _or better than he was_ ), he put a stop to keeping any sort of eye on him. As long as he was in the Tower and the Tower was secure, Bucky was content.

Tony had pouted, but seemed to get a general idea of why it bothered him to do it at all and stopped bringing it up. He knows Tony is probably still keeping an eye on both of them, maybe even the whole Tower, and he doesn't like the idea of either of them being watched, but there's little they can do about it right now, especially when they're on the public floors.

The phantom pains are still there every so often, but they're quick to decrease as Steve adjusts. Bucky's glad Steve doesn't have to suffer through the alternative, of constant pain. Even if it's a small break, Bucky will take whatever good the universe is willing to give them.

They start sparring together again at the end of the week, taking it slow at first before moving on to more complicated and rough techniques and movements. It takes Steve more than a few days to adjust to using his leg for something other than walking, and jumping alone is jarring and strange enough to force them to take their time.

Their need to tear at each other had simmered during their trek through Europe and the Middle East as their memories settled. It's manageable now, if always present, but they aren't slaves to it anymore, can curve it and redirect it into training, battle, and other activities. Their fingers sometimes still dig into each other’s skin in the night when they cling to each other desperately, and they're still rough with each other from time to time, but it's better than it was.

Steve can experience sexual pleasure again, not always consistently, but it's become more frequently occurring. They don't always engage in it, however, because they don't need to, and sometimes they don't even want to. Even when Steve couldn't get aroused it wasn't a problem. He'd still touch Bucky, still give him pleasure because he wanted to, and Bucky would never ask it from him, didn't need it to enjoy and bask in Steve's company. He'd take whatever Steve was willing to give him. So the sex is still there, in a variety of forms if they want it, but it's not a necessity.

Steve's slowly becoming more talkative as the days go by into the second week, the setback to his recovery caused by Lukin gradually coming undone, so he's making progress again. The first time he used sarcasm on Tony, Tony just about fell out of his chair from surprise and shock. Steve had grinned as he left the room and Bucky saw Tony nearly fall over a second time. It made him put on a grin of his own. It was refreshing to see others see _Steve_ again, it'd been too long since anyone besides him had.

It's halfway into the their third week at the Tower that Steve properly meets Thor while they're training on the gym floor. After getting over the initial strangeness of feeling vibrations from something _attached_ to his leg and up into his body instead of the vibrations hitting his body alone, Steve adjusted rapidly. They've quickly moved on from simple avoidance techniques, jabs, twists and turns into things they're much more experienced and familiar with: fast fists, heavier blocks, flips, slides, and kicks.

Bucky throws a punch with his left fist and Steve blocks it with his right leg, metal ringing on metal before they dart away from each other, slipping around, over, and under one another in flips and graceful slides like a dance. And it _is_ a dance for them, the kind the beasts they were turned into can do while the human parts of themselves can't. It helps to ease the urge to claw and tear and pushes their bodies to the point where they can feel a good ache instead of memories of pain.

They've just broken apart to take a break, both panting with sweat drenched into their clothes, when Thor walks in. Steve hasn't seen more than a passing glance of him the whole time they've been at the Tower, unlike Bucky.

“Fellow warriors!” Thor booms as he strides across the room, causing both of them to jump and whip around fast in his direction, both tensed before they each force themselves to relax (mostly) at seeing who it is.

“Thor,” Bucky greets before adding, “ _My liege,_ ” with an over dramatic bow and the out sweep of an arm. Thor gives a thundering laugh while Bucky straightens back up and smirks. They've had time to talk, some, enough for Bucky to be more comfortable around him if not exactly relaxed and trusting. For all that Thor wears his heart on his sleeve, Bucky can tell he's capable of doing surprising things, knows everyone is. But Thor doesn't view the world as they do, which is both refreshing and dangerous.

“Son of Winter,” Thor jokes back, stopping a fair distance away out of respect for Steve, and Bucky doesn't go stiff at being called that anymore because it's a part of him, will _always_ be a part of him.

Bucky gives a slight, lazy salute before glancing over to Steve, who's gone a little stiff, tense, but Bucky can tell he's trying not to be. Thor shifts his attention, expression still open but serious.

“I am not sure how to greet you,” Thor finally says honestly, voice calm but serious, “You have both been through much, and while your shield brother is fine with what I call him, I also know that recovery takes its own time with everyone. I will call you as you wish to be called.”

Steve's expression turns a little shocked, not bothering to hide it before his eyes dart down in thought, his shifting slightly on his right leg the only other sign that he's maybe a little flustered. For all that they've been addressed by _their_ names, it's mostly been a choice everyone else has made, choosing to call them by their last names, having to call them by their fake names if it was necessary while they were traveling, calling them _The Soldier_ and _The Winter Soldier_ , the _Assets_ while they were captive. Natasha may be the only exception, but even that's a choice between two of her own choosing for Bucky (“James,” or “ _Yasha_ ”). No one has ever asked them what _they_ would like to be called, no one has asked _Steve_ , until now.

Steve's eyes rise back up to meet Thor's and they're more settled, in his decision or the fact that he _can_ make the decision, Bucky's not sure.

“Steve,” Steve says after a moment, lips quirking up a little at the edges. “You can call me Steve,” he finishes, and what surprises Bucky is that he holds out his hand for Thor to shake.

Thor looks at Steve for a moment in similar surprise before a smile stretches out wide across his face, taking Steve's hand and giving it a hearty shake.

“I am Thor, of Asgard,” Thor greets, and Steve actually smiles, surprising Bucky again.

“It's nice to meet you, Thor.” Steve returns the shake, not as openly heartfelt as Thor, but Bucky can tell he's being more open than he's been with any of the other Avengers. Thor does seem to have that effect on people, though, disarming in an honest way. Even Bucky jokes more openly with him than the others. Well, aside from Natasha.

It doesn't stop the sting of something in his chest from spreading out like small sparks throughout his veins. The way Steve is easier with Thor so quickly, offers contact upon a first meeting. It wouldn't be unusual for the old Steve to do, but they're not who they were so Bucky knows better. Even if Steve's just _trying_ to be more open, it's still a big step for either of them and all three of them know it.

Thor and Steve let go of each other's hands and Steve looks over at Bucky, smile still on his face, and Bucky shoves his own feelings down. Steve's smiling, _actually smiling_ ; that's all that matters right now. Bucky returns it with one of his own.

Thor leaves them soon after that and they go back to sparring, Steve lighter on his feet than he's been since they got here and Bucky feeling like there's a heavy rock in his chest. But he pushes it aside because Steve comes first, _Steve always comes first_.

–

After finally meeting Thor, things develop into a routine, well, what they'd consider one.

Bucky and Steve still take walks on random floors of the Tower, but now sometimes Steve takes them alone. They continue to spar together for a while at first, but, gradually, they start to do it separately as well. It's nice to have time to themselves with just something to hit and drive their various frustrations into, and sometimes Bucky spars with Natasha, who is quick and strong and lithe. A couple times he spars with Thor, who is speed and strength and forward in his fighting style. The variety keeps him on his toes as well as pushes him. They're both of them capable of keeping up with him, metal limbs or no, and Thor can overpower Bucky just fine which is terrifying, motivating, and thrilling.

Occasionally, he's caught Steve training alone, has seen him on his way to a different gym so they can still keep to themselves even while they're both training at the same time. He knows Steve's keeping to himself, training by himself to work through whatever is going on inside his own head, but sometimes Bucky will catch a flash of alien armor and those same sparks will fire throughout his chest before he can push them aside. It's not that he doesn't know what they are, it's just that it's ridiculous. Steve himself said Bucky would always have a part of Natasha even if Steve never had anyone else, and he wasn't _wrong_. As much as they want and need each other, Bucky isn't entirely alone, even if sometimes he feels like he is. Steve _is_ completely alone outside of Bucky, and he wasn't meant to be. Parts of Steve are still like a flower that needs sunlight, someone who needs people and for people to need _him_ , so Bucky pushes what he feels aside and lets Steve have it, because he needs it.

He's seen Natasha approach Steve once or twice as well, has overheard them discuss training, but Steve declines. He's not sure if it has to do with her connection to Bucky, the irrational part of him thinks it does, but neither bear any ill will to each other so Bucky keeps his distance. He sees them talking quietly outside sometimes when he roams the halls at night after waking from a nightmare and finds himself alone in the med lab. He doesn't interfere.

It's during their fourth week at the Tower that two things happen at once. Tony says they each get their own floors again (“Well, you could have had yours the day you got here but seeing as you two are practically _glued together_ and Steve had to stay in the med lab, I didn't even bother bringing it up”), and that they can leave the Tower.

–

It's not far, only to a park a few miles out. It feels like a leash, but Steve understands the reason for it, even if he hates it.

Tony gave them a list of increasingly technical reasons for it (most of which Steve and Bucky understood, but they weren't about to let that on). The gist of it was that those few miles could be monitored close enough and were secure enough that if anything were to happen to either of them while they were within that radius, the chances of them actually being taken were close to zero. Being killed had a higher risk factor, but it was still low enough due to the amount of public exposure, low enough that it was a small risk factor.

The first thing both of them do is look at each other, the second thing they do is run for the elevator without thinking.

After impatiently taking it down to the lobby and almost breaking through the glass front doors of the building in their haste, they take off running, moving in unison for a while and keeping the same pace, which is _fast_.

The park's close and they aim for its outskirts, still too crowded inside its confines with people, children, pets, _families_ for them to be comfortable, but the farthest they can currently go if they want to stay under the safety of the Tower. Frankly, any part of the city is too crowded for their comfort, but they're so caught up in finally being able to run outside, in the open, in _New York_ , to really notice it.

They start to slow on their way back when it hits them both how exposed they left the Tower. With a quick, shared glance they pick up their pace and aim back for the building.

Natasha practically materializes out of the shadows between two buildings near the it holding a pair of hoodies and two baseball caps in her arm and hand, two pairs of glasses in her other hand. They spot her and quickly duck out of sight between the two buildings.

 _Careless_.

She just raises an eyebrow at them both as they rush to pull on the clothes, hats, and glasses, clearly unimpressed.

Steve sees Bucky squint at her in return and feels that clench in his chest again, every time they communicate in a look or a gesture. He darts his eyes away. It makes him feel... _excluded_ , lonely, even if they don't mean it that way.

They both take off running again after that, but their paces are different and they're no longer in sync.

Neither says a word about it. They're just excited and in different head spaces. Have to be.

It sounds false even when Steve thinks it, but he pushes it aside.

–

They each take daily runs after that, sticking together for the first few days as they adjust to the amount of people, being out in the city without a _mission_ or _goal_ in mind, and then gradually separating to do it on their times like their training.

Bucky likes to go at night while Steve likes to go in the mornings. Sometimes they'll meet in the middle and go at noon, but most of the time they won't. Steve's not sure what to make of their now different schedules. They've been functioning in such tight spaces together, working on the same schedule and living out of each other's pockets for so long that this change is strange for him. It's not that he's trying to push Bucky away, and it doesn't seem like Bucky's trying to push him away either, but they are shifting from constantly being around one another to having some sort of space between them. Steve's not sure how to feel about it.

He's out jogging (“Don't break the sound barrier, we can't afford to draw that kind of attention,” Tony had joked, but there was a serious tone underneath it that Steve was all too aware of) when he meets someone new, someone who isn't an Avenger or out to kill him ( _at least he's pretty sure the man's not_ ). And it starts with him saying, “On your left.”

The man doesn't think anything of it at first, and neither does Steve, just shifts a little to the right as Steve passes him by.

Three days later it's the third time it’s happened (because Steve takes long, varying routes so he only passes the same person once. Passing by someone too quickly, too many times on such a long route for a normal individual will only draw too much attention) and the man reacts.

“Don't do it,” he starts. Steve can hear him clearly from the few feet behind him Steve's quickly closing in on, even without his enhanced hearing.

A smirk pulls at his lips and he forces it away before he gets into the man's field of vision.

“On your left,” Steve says as he passes him, not entirely able to keep the teasing out of his voice, to his surprise. He's been acting more and more like his old self more frequently these days the longer he's away from S.H.I.E.L.D., away from Hydra. That's not to say he'll ever _be_ the same, but certain characteristics are slowing coming back into the light. It's worrying, almost cripplingly fear inducing, but still nice, somehow.

“Man!” the other runner lets out when Steve's a few yards past him, and Steve can't contain his laugh. That's been happening a lot more lately, too.

Steve finds the man on his way back to the Tower resting with his back against a tree near the edge of the park, trying to catch his breath.

The man knows its him, doesn't even look up when he speaks. “Man,” he starts between breaths, “Whatever you're eating, I want in.” Steve almost tenses, but he picks up the joking tone in the guy's voice and relaxes.

He huffs out a laugh, looking down at him. “Just fruit, vegetables, grain, all of the basic food groups.” Steve pushes the glasses back up his nose when they start to slide down from the angle his head's at to look down at the man.

“Ha!” the man lets out, opening his eyes and leaning his head back against the tree to look up at him, “No way. Running like that? You've gotta be eating _something_. Extra apples, maybe,” he jokes, grinning.

Steve cracks a smile, offering a hand down that the man accepts, pulling him up off the ground.

“Sam Wilson,” the man greets, offering his hand back after he's let go.

“Josh Krowe,” Steve replies as he shakes Sam's hand, the lie rolling off of his tongue as natural as if it were his own. It's unavoidable. Tony has JARVIS on the security cameras within the three mile radius, altering all of Steve and Bucky's faces in an altered facial recognition program, so no one can detect them. Names, on the other hand, would give them away, especially if they used them in a place they planned on frequenting. They just got the ability to roam New York back, even if only in a three mile radius of it, they don't want to have to lock themselves back up in the Tower or be forced to leave the country. Again.

“Where'd you serve?” Sam asks, and Steve was expecting the question, he's not oblivious to the way Sam carries himself, but it still makes him freeze momentarily on the spot.

Sam notices, expression shifting to something a little apologetic, body shifting to something less forward and facing, removing any trace of the slightest confrontation, good or not. “Sorry man, it's just...the way you carry yourself. You don't have to answer.”

“No,” Steve starts, surprising himself to find that he actually means it, “It's fine. I did a lot...of black ops. Overseas.”

Sam's faces lights back up a little that he replied, but still attentive, not wanting to step on Steve's toes about something personal.

“Two tours in Afghanistan, pararescue. I work at the VA now, helping where I can,” Sam says, an offer of information to balance them out. Steve gives a tentative smile and Sam returns it.

“Well, I should get going,” Steve says a moment later, turning to leave, “See you later, Sam.”

“Yeah, see you later, Josh,” Sam responds before Steve takes off jogging the rest of the way back to the Tower, a light bounce in his step.

–

“You met someone?” Bucky replies as soon as he's told him, Steve moving his glass under the faucet and filling it up almost to the top before shutting the water off and draining it down, hat and glasses set aside on the counter.

“He could be Hydra,” Bucky says, and Steve nearly chokes on the last swallow, “Or one of the scattered S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.” Bucky's eyes narrow before darting to Natasha, who doesn't move, then up to the ceiling. Natasha's sitting at the smaller table across from the kitchen near the large, floor to ceiling windows. He can easily imagine the Hydra agents he killed there.

“JARVIS,” Bucky starts, eyes on the ceiling, “Run a search on a 'Sam Wilson.'”

“Bucky-” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off with a look.

“I don't trust it. You just happen to run into someone during your daily run and don't find that suspicious?” Bucky asks, eyes shifting to the hologram that materializes between the two of them.

“It seemed more like _I_ ran into _him_ on _his_ run,” Steve half mumbles, because Bucky's no longer paying attention to what he's saying, eyes scanning the hologram.

“ _There are a total of sixty-six 'Sam Wilson's in New York, Sir_ ,” JARVIS dutifully informs Bucky.

“Trace Steve's movements from an hour ago and pinpoint any exact extended contact,” Bucky orders. Steve lets out a sigh that he's sure Bucky doesn't hear either.

“ _Sir_ -”

“JARVIS, this is important,” Bucky cuts him off.

“ _Yes, Sir_.”

Steve thinks even JARVIS sounds exasperated, but he could just be projecting.

“There,” Bucky announces, metal finger pointing at one of the various, altered security footages JARVIS has pulled up. He'd know Steve anywhere, Steve's sure, just like Steve would know Bucky anywhere, face altered or not.

“Zoom in,” Bucky demands, the screen zooming in almost immediately. Steve watches Bucky squint at it, probably reading their lips. He sees Bucky's eyes narrow further, if that's possible. What’s Steve thinking? Of course it’s possible, Bucky’s the one doing it.

Natasha turns a page in the book she's reading at the table.

Bucky's narrowed eyes flicker to Steve for a moment before going back to the footage, flesh fingers scrolling through the pulled up list of 'Sam Wilson's before finding the one he's looking for, tapping on it and eyes scanning across the new page of information.

Bucky's eyes snap back to his and Steve can practically see the suspicion. Actually, he _can_ see the suspicion.

“He's military,” Bucky says, face going a little blank and tone neutral.

“Yes, Buck,” Steve says slowly as if talking to a child. Bucky's eyes narrow again. “He told me, not that I couldn't figure it out for myself. And we're not the only ones who served,” he finishes, leaning back against the large, marble kitchen counter with a sigh.

Bucky closes the security footage with his metal fingers without taking his eyes off of Steve, tapping Sam's profile with a couple of his flesh fingers, “In the Middle East.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest a little defensively. Natasha turns another page.

“He told me that, too. What's your point? Just because he was in Afghanistan doesn't mean he's _Hydra_ ,” Steve says, tone a little defensive as well.

Bucky sweeps his right arm out to clear away all of the holograms, electronic light dematerializing back into nothing, eyes staying on Steve the whole time.

“I don't trust him,” Bucky starts, voice hard, “I don't want you to see him.”

Steve stands up a little straighter, eyes going just as hard as Bucky's. “That's not for you to decide,” he says, voice steel.

Bucky's eyes narrow a little, stepping closer to Steve. “Steve, we're hunted. We can only go three miles into New York and we're locked up in this Tower like _caged pets_ , _again_ ,” Bucky starts, eyes shifting a little from hard to reasoning, but Steve can see the steel's still there, “I know you want to get out, meet people, feel a little _normal_ again, but this guy is too big of a risk, and _I don't trust him_.”

“He doesn't feel like S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra to me, Bucky,” Steve starts, going quiet for a moment as his eyes drop to half lidded, staring blankly at him, “Are you saying you don't trust _me?_ _James?_ ”

Bucky's eyes widen before darting to the side, curling in on himself slightly before forcing himself to stand up straight and tall, eyes meeting Steve's. “That's not what I'm saying and you know it,” he starts, flesh hand clenching at his side, “I just don't want you to get hurt.”

Steve's eyes drop to the floor in thought before he pushes himself off of the edge of the kitchen counter, grabbing the hat and glasses before he moves to leave the kitchen. “I'm already hurt,” he says lowly as he passes Bucky, whose metal fingers he can hear grinding into a tight fist.

Steve strides out of the kitchen the same moment Clint walks in, looking at the scene before him.

“Trouble in paradise?” he hears Clint joke before hearing Bucky growl out something in Russian in response (“ _Mind you're own business_ ”), quickly followed by the sound of metal tearing.

“Wait _wait,_ I was just kidding!” Clint lets out.

“ _James_ ,” Steve hears Natasha say sharply as the elevator doors slide open, “Put that down. It's for opening the fridge, not for beating Clint with.”

The elevator doors close behind him.

“The gym please, JARVIS,” Steve says, almost quietly.

The doors slide open a moment later without another word and Steve steps out and heads for the gym.

–

Clint's scared out of the kitchen, managing to grab an orange while vaulting over one of the kitchen's counters and making a break for the door.

Natasha's a steady presence and Bucky lets the almost rhythmic turning of her book’s pages lull him past his outburst, loosening his grip on the fridge door handle he'd torn off and listening to the metal squeal as his metal fingers uncoil. It's almost calming.

He lets his breaths even out after a few minutes, leaning over to calmly place the torn off handle on the counter next to the fridge before walking over to the table, rounding it and taking a seat at Natasha's right, back to the floor to ceiling windows. That's progress, even if it still makes him twitchy.

She doesn't say anything, but he can practically hear her thinking it, waiting for him to break down. After five minutes he covers his face with his hands, leans over the table and lets out a long sigh.

“I know,” he says, muffled into his hands. He scrubs his face once before sliding his fingers up and back and forcing his hair back from his face, sitting up. “It was too much. I just...He's been through enough, I don't want him to go through any more. And yes, I know,” he cuts her off, even though she hasn't even opened her mouth, just raised a slight eyebrow. He knows what she's going to say, or at least what she's currently thinking.

“I _know_ I can't protect him from the whole damn world, but I can't just _stand back_ and watch him get hurt either. I have to do _something_ , even if he hates me for it,” he finishes, turning his head after a moment to look out at the city, resting his right arm on the table.

Natasha pulls a bookmark out from underneath her book, sliding it into place between the pages she's on and closing it, resting her hands on the top before looking over at him.

“It will suffocate both of you,” she starts; he doesn't look at her, “More than you two already are. And it won't work besides, you two are both changing. You're both already far different people than you were when S.H.I.E.L.D. first captured you.”

He lets out a humorless sound, not quite a laugh, turning his head slightly to finally look over at her. “This isn't new,” he starts, gesturing briefly between himself and the hall to the elevator with his right hand before setting it back down on top of the table, mouth twisting into a one sided grimace of a smile, “In fact it's really, really old. Steve was always getting himself into trouble most of the time, and I always had to keep an eye on him. Now it's just...” He lowers his head slightly, looking down to the side, voice quieter, “Now it's just... _more_ , more than what it was before. He's not just like a brother to me, you know that, but back then I could barely admit that to myself. And now that we _are_ more, have _had to become_ more and have been through everything? I feel...I know it doesn't give me a monopoly on him, but if he won't protect himself then I will. Because I can't see him go through any more Natalia, _I_ _can't_ , I won't.” He darts his eyes up to hers, wanting to see her thoughts on this, regardless. She's objective on this where he is not.

Natalia's expression gives nothing away, but her eyes have always said more than her whole face and body combined.

She moves a hand, sliding it off of the book to rest on top of his, grip gentle but firm. “Maybe,” she says, eyes glancing down at their hands for a moment before looking out at the city, the start of the setting sun catching her hair afire. She's always been beautiful. “I won't tell you what to do,” she starts, eyes looking back to his, locking them in place, “But I will ask you this, how is that so different from the Red Room?”

Bucky flinches slightly; her grip tightens. “How is locking him in a box of your _own_ choosing any different from them locking him in one?” she asks, voice firm before her expression softens slightly, “He will get hurt, we all get hurt, it's unavoidable. The best you can do is be there when it happens. He will never resent you for that.”

“Natalia-” he starts, but she shakes her head just the slightest and he stops.

“I won't tell you what to do,” she says quietly.

He looks at her a little helplessly, because he _knows_ she's right, and he's not entirely sure if she chose to call it a box on purpose because he knows _she_ knows he and Steve both hate being treated like something that goes in one, but she's also honest with him in ways no one else ever was, even now still is. She's not soft with him when it counts, and he loves her for it, but it doesn't make her any easier to read when she doesn't want to be read. She was quick to hide behind masks as a child, he only helped her become more proficient at it.

He leans in and she meets him halfway, her lips soft and warm and _familiar_. Similar to Steve in that she's the only other person he's this familiar with, the only other person who makes him feel _any_ _kind_ of normal. He's given up longing for it, he's so past normal it barely even registers as a thought anymore, but with them he feels it in a way that isn't wanting a house and a wife and kids. He just feels like he _fits_.

She pulls away after a moment and he lets her go, feels her slightly roughened fingers on his cheek, her other hand still gripping his, book abandoned.

They just look at each other for a few minutes, seeing their history and their present and ignoring their future because futures are unpredictable and their lives aren't meant to plan for one, not that far ahead.

She rises from her chair, fingers sliding off of his cheek with the motion and pulling his hand with hers. He rises with it, lets her pull him out of the room, down the hall, into the elevator and to her floor.

They don't crash together when the door closes behind them. They may have once, but not now. They've both changed a lot since then and this isn't about the past. Bucky is lost and she's a fire in the night sky. Their lips meet in gentle waves and his hands find her hips, pull her in and move to circle his arms around her waist when her own circle the back of his neck. He won't compare her to Steve, won't compare Steve to her. They're different people, different shapes and textures, personalities and lights. Neither of them deserve that.

She walks back and he lets her lead him, only breaking their kisses so that she can open the door to her bedroom. Once they’re passed the threshold, he closes it behind them with a foot.

Her hands shift, slide down to grab the bottom of his shirt and pull it up and off. He breaks away just long enough for her to discard it before his hands find her again, sliding up underneath her shirt and doing the same. Their pants are slid off with a grace he almost wants to laugh at, can tell she does too, if it weren't so ingrained in them both.

He doesn't wear underwear, doesn't like the feel of it, so all that's left is hers and her bra. He slips his fingers around her back, gets her bra off with one set and a twist, giving her a cocky grin while she lets it slide down her arms and drop to the floor. She raises an eyebrow at him before he lowers to his knees, fingers slipping into the top of her underwear to slide them down gently, more gentle than the targets he knows she's had to get close to in years gone by. He presses a kiss to her thigh and hip, feels her fingers slide gently through his hair in response.

He rises from the floor in languid grace, watches her go over to a drawer at the side of the bed and pull out two packets, tossing one at him before stepping back and falling onto the bed, hair flying and landing in the setting sun's rays across the sheets with the other. For a moment, all he can do is stare at her, trace every feature, shades of color, the slight movements of her chest as it rises and falls with her breaths, her fingertips as she presses them into the sheets. Feels her own eyes doing the same with him.

Opening the packet without looking at it, he pulls the condom out and slides it on before moving forward, crawling onto the bed at her side and lying on his back in the streaks of sun, letting her move to straddle his waist, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. His own fly up to her waist and his breath hitches as she slides herself against him, labia spread over the top of his half hard cock and clitoris sliding against his length. She lets out a quiet sound of her own, eyes locked on his as she spreads her legs a little wider, grinding down against him.

She leans down and her hair curtains them in fire as they kiss, one of his hands sliding around and slowly up her back, the other spread out and sliding up over her stomach to gently cup and massage one of her breasts while they swallow each others' quiet sounds, moving with and against one another.

Her fingers slide up the side of his neck and into his hair, squeezing gently before she reaches over and grabs the second packet, tearing it open and coating her fingers in clear, thick liquid. He watches her rise up off of him enough to cover his cock with it before squeezing out a little more to reach down between her legs and spread it on herself. He lets her direct everything, gives her complete control and lies still, waiting for any instruction she might give. She's had too many people in her life telling her what to do, how to do it, and _who_ to do it with; he won't be another, and he needs her guidance right now, her light, so she guides him and he lets her.

He keeps still as she wraps her fingers around his cock and rises a little further onto her knees, guiding him to her entrance before slowly sinking down and him up inside. His breath catches in his throat at the sensation but otherwise he doesn't move, slides his warm hand slowly back down her stomach as she begins to rock, his metal fingers shifting down to curl in the sheets.

She slides her left hand over to his stomach for balance, right moving to slide down over his metal arm before gripping his fist, giving him a slight nod for him to move.

He brings his hips up to meet hers, keeping a steady pace until she signals him to move faster and he complies, quiet, breathy moans punching out of his chest with each thrust. He needs this, maybe she does, too.

She's quiet, even like this. He's not sure if she's ever been loud in anything she’s done, outside of acting for a mission, even before he met her all those years ago. She's always been like a predator to him, gaining more skill the older she got. A black leopard prowling in a sea of people in a Russian Winter and silently eliminating her targets, her missions with increasing skill. Part of him wants to melt into her and never come back out.

They meet in the middle again as they kiss, his warm fingers sliding back around to brace her lower back as they move faster. She swallows his louder moans and he swallows her breathy sighs as they get closer, closer, _closer_ -

He comes with a groan that she keeps for herself, metal fingers tearing through the sheet he's got a grip on. He doesn't stop moving because she never told him to, and her release comes five more thrusts later. They both collapse onto the bed, breathing hard, the top of her head underneath his chin.

Bucky uncoils his fingers from the torn sheets and carefully turns his palm over to lace his fingers with hers, each gripping the other gentle but firm, holding onto each other, his other hand still resting on her lower back.

They don't say anything, just let their breaths calm before she lifts up onto her knees to slide off of him and his hand slides off of her, each use one to pull the condom off and tie the end, the others staying locked. He tosses the condom into the trash at the other end of the bed, giving another, slightly cocky smirk at the successful shot.

Natalia gives a small smile and a slight shake of her head before she moves over to lie down next to him, head resting near his collarbone on the right and fingers still locked with his metal ones.

“Sorry about the sheets,” he says drowsily a few minutes later. She knees him in the side of the leg gently before they let themselves fall asleep.

–

Steve punches the punching bag, aims all five hits as precisely as his sniper shots before the bag goes flying. He lets out a growl before striding over to the large storage closet and pulling out another, carrying it over and hanging it up before aiming another hit. This bag lasts three punches.

He clenches his fists, ignores the shift in the air from near the doorway behind him.

“Are you in need of assistance?” Thor asks, and Steve lets out a low, frustrated sound.

“Maybe,” he admits quietly, stubbornly.

He hears Thor move and then there's red in his vision as Thor comes around him, stopping six feet away. Steve watches him detach his cape and hammer and set them aside, getting into position.

“Have at thee,” Thor says with a smirk, and Steve rushes him as soon as the words are out.

He punches, lunges, spins, leaps, kicks. Thor takes all of the hits he manages to land and avoids the rest. He's quicker than he looks, and far stronger than Steve, but he doesn't fight Steve like Steve's a child, doesn't treat him with kid gloves. He pulls back his strength some, but for the most part he gives just as good as he gets and Steve appreciates that, needs that right now.

They stay at it for an hour, Steve covered in a thin layer of sweat and muscles pleasantly worked when they decide to break. He feels better already, could keep going for hours, but he doesn't want to do this all day. Just wanted to get his mind off of things for a little while.

Thor takes a step back and Steve's about to say something, gets as far as, “Thor, _wait-_ ” before Thor falls back with a surprised yell and lands on his back on the floor's wide mat.

Steve's quiet for a moment before Thor lets out a, “What beast tripped the Prince of Asgard?” and then Steve's snorting, bursting out and doubling over with a laugh. He hears Thor join in a few moments later and then they're both laughing and it feels _good_. It feels good to _feel_ good.

Steve wipes at his eyes a few minutes later, tears collected their from laughter, and walks over, holding a hand out for Thor to take. Steve pulls him to his feet when he does, Thor still shaking with mirth while looking back at the opened punching bag on the floor.

“'Twas nothing but sand,” Thor declares, standing up straight with his hands on his hips.

Steve lets out another snort while shaking his head, a smile spread across his face. Thor grins in return.

“Thank you,” Steve says honestly after a few moments, taking a last deep breath to calm his breathing.

Thor shakes his head, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder to grip it firmly before giving it a squeeze, Steve swaying slightly with the movement. “Nay, Steve, it was my honor. But if I may ask, what is troubling you? I have not seen you frustrated in that way before.”

Steve stiffens slightly before relaxing again, leaning into Thor's grip for a moment before straightening. Thor lets go after a moment.

“I had an argument with Bucky,” Steve starts, looking down at the floor for a moment, “I met someone who I might be able to become friends with while I was out running today, and Bucky said he doesn't want me to meet with him again because he doesn't trust that the man isn't S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra. Do you know how long it's been since I've _had_ a friend, Thor? Outside of all this.” He gestures to the Tower and his life as a whole.

Thor remains silent, listening patiently and waiting for him to continue, expression open and free of judgment when Steve looks up.

“And I _understand_ his concern, but Sam doesn't feel like S.H.I.E.L.D. or Hydra, and I think I'd at least have an inkling if someone was at this point,” Steve continues. “It just feels like he doesn't trust me, doesn't trust my judgment when he _knows_ better, he has to know, after everything. I'm tired of feeling so isolated, Thor. I want to talk to people again, I want to have _connections_ again. Not that I don't appreciate your company, but I need something stable, someone I know will be around more. Bucky has that in Natasha. I need something that's mine,” Steve finishes quietly, eyes back down on the floor. He knows he sounds childish, but he's starting to think that might not necessarily be a bad thing.

Thor looks at him for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest, glancing up at the ceiling in thought before looking back to Steve.

“And you trust your judgment of this Sam?” Thor asks, and Steve looks up at him, nods.

Thor smiles a little after a moment. “Then I will trust your judgment as well,” he says, expression going thunderous for a moment, “But if he turns out to be that of an enemy, know that I will stand with you. We are brothers of battle now, Steve Rogers.”

Steve blinks for a moment, stunned into silence before a smile slowly starts to ease itself onto his face.

Steve holds out his hand again and Thor unwinds his arms, grabbing Steve's wrist in an Asgardian shake with a smile before gently pulling Steve in, giving him time to reject the motion. Steve hesitates but chooses to let it happen, Thor's arms winding around him in a big hug. Steve's stiff at first, unsure, unaccustomed, but he slowly eases into it. Some part of him trusts Thor, even though The Soldier side of him is telling him not to trust anyone. He ignores it for the first time where it concerns others and decides to take a chance. He's so tired of feeling alone.

Steve returns the hug hesitantly at first, winding his arms around Thor's strong middle and gradually tightening his grip to something comfortable, confident, something with the potential to become familiar. Thor pats his back once before releasing him, a heartfelt smile on his face that Steve can't help smiling back to. It feels good. _He_ feels good, in a way different from being around Bucky, and he _likes_ it.

Thor helps him clean up the mess of two broken punching bags before taking his leave while Steve heads for the elevator, taking it up to the communal room. He exits the elevator and makes his way down the hall, already quiet footsteps automatically quieting further at the faint sound of voices coming from up ahead.

He slows to a stop when he recognizes them. He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't and Bucky doesn't do it either. At least, as far as he _knows_ Bucky doesn't, but he trusts Bucky not to. He's always trusted Bucky. So he doesn't think Bucky's listened in on Steve's conversations like this...Has he?

“...I still don't trust that Sam Wilson.”

 _Bucky_.

“I don't think it's up to you, but I told you, I won't tell you what to do. Either of you.”

Natasha.

A sigh. Bucky.

“Sometimes I wish you would.” Quiet, almost playful.

“We never got that far.” Quiet, just as playful.

A sound, high pitched and slick and- 

Steve’s eyes snap up and his breathing quickens.

He strides forward, out of the rest of the way of the hall and stops just inside of the room.

Natasha and Bucky pull back, Bucky's eyes wide while Natasha schools her expression. Their hair is wet, not dripping, but it looks towel dried after a shower. Natasha's clothes don't stick in wet patches from the water, but Bucky's do. 

Steve grinds his teeth together, fists clenched.

“Steve-” Bucky starts, but Steve stalks forward, darting in at the last second and grabbing hold of Bucky's neck, forcing him to the ground while Steve kneels above him, left knee on the ground and the right crouched, right foot planted firmly and right hand braced on the floor. He leans down and shoves his face in Bucky's neck and Bucky goes still while Steve smells him. He vaguely caught sight of a book in Natasha's hand. A distant part of his mind is telling him she must have forgot it. Forgot it before they-

 _There_. He can _smell_ it.

He stiffens.

“ _Steve-_ ” Bucky tries again, but Steve cuts him off with a louder growl, grip tightening on Bucky's throat slightly before he shoves himself up and quickly turns around, stalking out of the room and back down the hall, only vaguely aware of Natasha's presence.

“Steve!” Bucky calls after him. Steve can hear him scrambling to get up and half running for the hall after him.

Steve cuts his right arm through the air, cutting off whatever Bucky might say.

He presses the button for the elevator and Bucky catches up to him while he waits.

“Steve, you _know_ -” Bucky starts as Steve steps forward when the doors slide open. Bucky wisely doesn't follow.

Steve turns around, locks eyes with him as the doors start to slide closed.

“ _Hypocrite_ ,” he says harshly, Bucky's eyes widening as the doors seal closed.

Steve clenches his fists at his sides, forcing his breaths to slow as his mind races, trying to process too much information at once even though it's really not that much.

Bucky had sex with Natasha. Estimation is soon after the argument Steve had with him about Sam.

Steve sparred with Thor, made a connection.

Steve went up to the communal room to get something to eat.

Bucky and Natasha were talking. They kissed.

Steve smelled Bucky for confirmation, because he doesn't do anything by half measures.

Suspicion confirmed.

Natasha forgot her book.

Steve yelled at Bucky.

Natasha forgot her book.

Bucky and Natasha kissed.

Natasha and Bucky had sex.

His back hits the elevator wall and he grips the railing tight, only letting up when he hears a creak. His breathing picks up as his vision blurs.

Bucky and Natasha kissed.

Natasha forgot her book.

Natasha and Bucky had sex.

He closes his eyes.

It's not even the sex he's upset about, or the kissing.

“ _Steve, you **know** -”_

Yes, he knows. Natasha is special, Natasha has been and will _always_ be special, and Steve accepts this. He even talks with Natasha, has come to enjoy their conversations even if he won't spar with her ( _because that's Bucky's, he doesn't want to intrude on something that Bucky might want to keep to himself. He hasn't asked_ ), is grateful to her for helping him when they first stayed at the Tower and he was mostly willing to speak but only in Russian. This isn't what he's upset about.

Bucky can turn to Natasha. Bucky has someone outside of Steve and that _hurts_. Steve has no one else and seeing them together makes him feel so _alone_. Excluded. Isolated. Makes it more obvious just how _vulnerable_ he is. He has no one but himself outside of Bucky, and _it's not enough,_ not anymore, especially not _now._ And Steve wants what Bucky has, _needs_ what Bucky has. He needs more people in his life, needs more connections that don't revolve around seventy years of helland torture and pain and _loss_. He's not just _The Soldier_ anymore. He needs someone he can turn to who isn't _Bucky_ and Bucky is trying to refuse him that to _protect him_ , he _knows_ Bucky's just trying to protect him, but it's starting to feel like he can't fucking _breathe_ under it, especially when it's not the way it is for Bucky the way it is for Steve. And not only that, Bucky was close with Natasha _just after_ denying Steve a connection with _Sam_.

He opens his eyes a little, can feel the tears on the verge of spilling and blinks, lets them fall.

There is Thor, but Thor isn't a constant. Steve likes Thor, a lot, but Thor has other people and a whole other _world_ he belongs to. His time at the Tower is unstable at best, and the chances of him being there when Steve needs him are slim. He needs something stable, needs _someone_ stable.

The doors slide open on his floor and Steve doesn't move, stays still and stares unseeingly at the floor for a few minutes to think while JARVIS waits patiently.

He wipes at his eyes and straightens up, taking a deep breath.

“I'm sorry, JARVIS,” he says quietly, stepping out of the elevator.

“ _It's perfectly alright, Steve_ ,” JARVIS replies, and Steve thinks he sounds the slightest bit gentle.

“Thank you,” he says, voice still quiet.

“ _You're welcome, Steve_ ,” JARVIS replies before closing the elevator doors. Steve makes himself take a step, then another, walks to the door of his apartment and then inside, locking the door behind him. He heads towards his bedroom before stopping and abruptly changing direction to the couch. He doesn't want to look at a bed right now.

He lays down on the large couch, curls up and tries to make himself small ( _habit, he's never been able to break it and sleeping in a cryotube for years didn't help_ ). His breathing is slow and he stares at the new coffee table in front of the couch, closing his eyes after ten minutes or so of it, thinking.

He's made up his mind. He's going running in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TAG/SPOILER/EXPLANATION:** Bucky and Natasha sleep together. Steve finds out and gets angry, but not because he views it as cheating. He doesn't. He is angry because Bucky trusts Natasha, enough that he lets his guard down a deal and can seek comfort with her, but is denying that to Steve by not approving of/wanting him to be friends with Sam. Steve does not want to sleep with Sam, but he wants to _trust_ someone a great deal, someone other than Bucky. Bucky has that, Steve doesn't, and Steve is angry that Bucky would deny him this then exercise that ability with the one other person _he_ trusts. This is addressed a bit between Natasha and Steve in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, because I've gotten various comments on this and this chapter in particular expressing distress over Bucky/Natasha, I'm going to add this: 
> 
> Bucky and Steve are together, in a sense, at this point, but should one of them need something, or some _one_ , the other has no problem with them seeking that out. In this sense, they are not strictly monogamous. Steve does not mind Bucky and Natasha being close, he is _glad_ that Bucky has that in his life if he needs it. Bucky is not as free giving where Steve is concerned in this chapter because he is possessive and afraid, but the core of those feelings is _love_. He _cares_ for Steve, deeply, in ways neither of them should probably have had to experience because of their, well, experiences, but he would never leave Steve willingly unless Steve wanted him to go, and Steve doesn't want that. Do not worry about the Bucky/Natasha becoming a main ship. It isn't, as it basically says in the tags. And I haven't tagged this polyamory because there are only two instances of them being with someone other than each other that I can remember, and one of those is in the oneshots after this section of the story (and includes both Steve and Bucky in it).
> 
> This Steve and Bucky don't experience things as...normal people would/do. Regular societal expectations are foreign to them and they don't operate within those boundaries.


	10. I Am Not a Robot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOD TO LIGHTING IN CHAPTER FORTY-SIX "POETRY" OF THE STRANGER BECAUSE MMF YES GORGEOUS.

Steve goes running the next morning, spots Sam who just lets out a laugh when Steve passes him while giving a slight salute, grinning. Later, he finds Sam by the same tree on the outskirts of the park as yesterday and heads over.

“Hey, Josh,” Sam greets with a smile and a wave.

“Hey, Sam,” Steve returns, only feeling a slight twinge at the lie.

“Walk?” Sam asks, nodding towards the park.

Steve looks out over it, eyeing the amount of people spread out in the large, wide open center and on the edges of the trees encircling the majority of it warily. There's children playing on swings and slides, running around the grass laughing and shrieking. Families are spread out and there's group gatherings on picnic blankets and benches. It's quieter on the outer areas with the clusters of trees lining the park just before the fence around its perimeter. But past them, further into the park itself is a sea of... _people_. Steve's not ready for that, shouldn't risk it, for their safety _and_ his.

Sam notices his hesitation and wariness and adds, “We can stick to the perimeter. I remember when I first got back, this was a bit much for me, too.”

Steve looks at him a little gratefully, even though his own reasoning isn't quite the same, before giving a small nod and they start walking, falling into step side by side.

Steve's not sure what to say, how to start a conversation. He hasn't had to with someone who doesn't know more about himself than he does in _decades,_ and even then, it wasn't quite like this. He doesn't know how to be _normal_ anymore when it's not a full on lie for a cover or when he's not around people like himself: killers, liars, outcasts. He used to know, once, a long time ago, but it was taken from him by a chair and time.

Fortunately, Sam saves him from his own awkward silence.

“You have trouble sleeping?” Sam asks, seemingly out of nowhere, looking at Steve with a slight smile on his face like he already knows the answer.

Steve blinks. He wants to say “ _always”_ , but instead says, “Yes. It's...hard to be comfortable for long periods of rest.”

Sam gives a knowing nod. “Yeah. I used to use rocks, - you know, over there - like a caveman. Now it's like my bed's this giant marshmallow I might sink into and never come out of.” Sam gives a small laugh that makes Steve smile a little.

“The nightmares don't help,” Steve says without thinking, eyes widening slightly in surprise at himself before they dart off to the side. He can feel the prickle on the side of his face of Sam looking at him.

“Yeah,” Sam replies a little quieter, feels that prickle of attention slide away, “Took me a few months to adjust, get them more under control. I can almost sleep a full night now.”

Steve looks back at him, sees Sam's smile's gone a little grim and a little determined, like he's still trying to deal with it. “You've been back that long?” Steve finds himself asking, though the answer is obvious.

Sam looks at him, gives another nod. “Yeah. It's still strange, being back, but I'm adjusting. How long has it been for you? My guess would be it's pretty recent.”

Steve stiffens minutely before forces himself to relax, eyes going to the trees. “About a month,” he answers, hears Sam give a low whistle to his left.

“Well, I guess that explains why you get tense a lot,” Sam says, a little humor in his voice to soften the words.

Steve's breath catches in his throat quietly before he lets it out, a slight, self deprecating smile curling up the corners of his lips at being caught ( _even as a part of his mind whispers “careless” in Russian_ ). “That obvious, huh?”

“Nah,” Sam replies, and Steve looks up to see he's smiling again. He kind of wishes he could be that free with his expressions. “I'm just used to seeing the signs. You're doing pretty good for only being back a month.”

Steve ducks his head slightly before raising it back up, eyes following the black, metal fence lining the park on his right. “I don't know,” he starts, voice a little quieter, “A lot of the time I feel...” He trails off, stopping for a moment to think it through. Sam waits patiently at his side.

“A lot of the time I feel like maybe I'm becoming more of who I used to be, _before_ , but I know that I'll never really stop being what...what I became, what I was during battle. What I became in combat. Something that I know I'll never be able to _stop_ being, no matter how I change, because it's such a large part of me now.” Steve stops for a moment, shocked. He's never told anyone that, barely even thinks it to himself in the fought for and won privacy of his own head. 

His eyes dart to Sam, who stopped walking shortly after he did, but his expression is calm, open, free of any judgment or pity that some of the others Steve knows might have aimed at him if he'd told them.

“It's alright, man,” Sam says, and Steve didn't realize his breathing had picked up. He forces it to slow down. Sam smiles briefly after a moment, something a little sad but understanding. “I don't know what you did, but I know we all go to war starting out as one person, then either come back as someone _different_ , or carrying something inside us that wasn't there when we left to go fight. Or maybe it was always there.”

Steve looks at him, fists clenching tightly at his sides to ground him.

Sam gives him another smile. It's kind and it almost hurts to see it aimed at him, because he doesn't feel like he _deserves_ something like that, not after everything he's done, will still do, everything he's _become_.

“All we can really do is try to live with it,” Sam adds a moment later with a small shrug, “And frankly, I think we're both doing pretty good from where I'm standing.” He grins a little before starting to walk again, and Steve stands still for a moment longer to process his words before moving to catch up.

“But you don't even know me,” Steve starts, a little incredulous, “I could be a monster walking around in sheep's clothing for all you know.” And the truth of that hits him down deep.

Sam stops again and looks over at him for a long moment, studying him. Steve freezes, unsure of what to do under the scrutiny. It reminds him of Zola and Lukin, of _Bucky_ , the intensity it holds, but it's completely different, and that might be the only reason Steve's not bristling or going on the defensive. Sam doesn't radiate things like Zola or Lukin, doesn't look at Steve like a prized horse he wants to own and keep, and he doesn't look at Steve like Bucky does, like too many things to word or name. He...looks at Steve like Steve's a regular _person_. It makes something shift, warm inside his chest, while terrifying him all at once. He's not sure what to do with it, or how to address it.

Sam smiles, a slow and sure thing before he shakes his head a little. “Nope, that's not what I see.”

Steve's eyes widen slightly before he ducks his head again, trying to calm himself down, settle the thing down inside of him that coils up in challenge to prove Sam wrong. He looks back up to find Sam still smiling. It makes something in his chest hurt.

“Well, I hope you're right,” he says quietly after a few moments, straightening back up, “Because it is what _I_ see.”

Sam's expression goes serious as he gives a nod, and then they're walking again.

They walk around the whole park twice more, talking about anything and nothing. Sam's work at the VA and Steve's progress adjusting to being back, but mostly just enjoying the companionable quiet. It doesn't need to be filled with anything, and even if he could, Steve's not sure he'd even _want_ to fill it. 

He's noticed while he runs in the mornings that everyone's always talking about _something_ to _someone_ , whether in person or on their phones, tablets, _computers_. He doesn't think he could do it, even now, even with all of the technological advancements programmed into his head. He likes talking to people in _person_ , and he likes not having to fill silences with meaningless words, isn't even sure he'd be capable of it, after everything. Seventy years and he didn't say much, they didn't program him to hold much of a conversation, say much of anything. And even now, it's really not so different from how he used to be, not saying much when it doesn't count. Something that hasn't really changed. Sure, he still talks less than he did before and during the war, but even before he never used to run his mouth unless he was telling off a bully, and he didn't have many who would even listen to him if he _were_ in the mood to talk, otherwise, besides Bucky. 

He frowns slightly at the thought Bucky, briefly.

Seventy years and it's fine now. He's fine with quiet.

He decides to head back to the Tower after their second walk around the park, leaving Sam with a small wave and a, “See you later,” before heading out one of the open gates. Natasha's waiting in one of Tony's expensive cars and catches him a block away from the park.

He stops on the sidewalk and looks at her through the rolled down, passenger side window. They stare at each other for a few moments in silence, people passing him by and chattering away before he crosses the distance and opens the door, sliding inside.

She revs the engine and pulls easily out of the parking spot against the curb, weaving seamlessly into traffic.

Neither of them say anything as she drives, taking a left turn a couple blocks away from the Tower to loop back around. He holds in a sigh. They're going to talk.

They're both relaxed, too relaxed, Steve against the passenger seat and Natasha against the driver's. Both able to see the lie, but both unwilling to correct or call it out. The silence isn't as comfortable as the one he'd shared with Sam, not right now.

“I'm not angry about it,” Steve starts, because he knows she'll wait him out, she waits out everyone. He finally lets out his sigh, continuing on quieter, “I'm tired of being alone. Bucky has you and I have no one, but I think you know that already.”

The car takes a right.

“I do,” Natasha says calmly, keeping her eyes on the road.

Steve glances at her for a moment before his eyes dart out the passenger window.

“I wasn’t angry about the sex,” he says quietly, “I just want to be able to connect with someone who isn't Bucky, like Bucky can connect with you. It’s not _fair_ Natasha, and it isn't right.”

She’s quiet as she listens, taking another turn away from the Tower. “I know,” she says after a few moments, once she’s sure he’s finished, and their eyes meet.

Steve lets out another quiet sigh. “You always seem to,” he replies, tone slightly joking.

Her lips quirk.

They’re quiet for a few minutes before, “He tried to send you, didn't he, to talk to me,” he says more than asks, looking back out the front window before glancing over to her again, sees her smirk momentarily. He knows she wouldn’t have come because Bucky pleaded for it. She came because she wanted to, because she _chose_ to. Bucky could never _make_ Natasha do anything.

“He did,” she replies, glancing to him in return before her eyes go back to the road. They take a left. “After I refused to let him go himself. I figured you wouldn't want to see him so soon,” she finishes.

Steve looks out the passenger window, fingers twitching once, slightly, where his hands rest in his lap. “You're right,” he says calmly, can feel the prickle of her gaze on the side of his face a moment later, “I _understand_ why he's doing it, but it's _suffocating_. It may have been fine before, but we're more human now and I can't live like that.” He huffs out a slightly disbelieving laugh. “I _can_ live now, hunted or not, isn't that the point?”

They're quiet as they loop back around another block, taking a turn to head back for the Tower.

“ _You should tell him this_ ,” she says in Russian. Steve turns his head to look over at her. “ _And, for what it’s worth, I think you_ _**should**_ _try it, but you must sort this out yourselves._ _James’ head is thick, you may have to beat it into him_.”

Steve lets out a quiet snort, a small smile creeping onto his face. “ _Is that your way of telling me I should spar with him when we get back_?” he replies in Russian as well.

Natasha's own lips quirk up, eyes staying on the road as she says, “ _I told you, I won't tell you what to do_.”

Steve looks at her seriously for a little longer before nodding, turning his head to look out front window.

“And he wouldn't mind,” she starts in English again, drawing his attention back to her, “If we sparred. He might even like it.”

Steve blinks at her slow smirk before darting his eyes to the passenger window, cheeks a little warm. “I'll think about it,” he half mumbles, listening to her quiet laugh fill the space.

–

Bucky's in the gym. Hoodie, hat, and glasses discarded in his apartment, Steve enters quietly. It won't make much of a difference, they always know when the other is nearby, even when they're fighting, but it's habit to be quiet as much as anything at this point.

Bucky doesn't hesitate where he's laying into a punching bag near the center of the room even though Steve knows _he_ knows Steve's here, and Steve watches him, catalogues his movements and angles, the precision of his punches before Steve's mind shifts. He takes note of the light coming in through the large floor to ceiling windows, watches Bucky's muscles tense, coil, and shift with each strike under its gaze.

His fingertips twitch with the urge to draw, but he sets it aside for now and quietly makes his way over.

Bucky stops hitting the bag when Steve stops five feet away, breath coming a little fast, a thin layer of sweat coating his skin, shining where the light catches. His hair is pulled back so Steve can see a drop of sweat sliding down the side of his neck. Bucky's wearing a black tank top so his left arm is bare, shining in the daylight streaming through the windows, scars faint on his right arm.

Bucky turns to him after a moment and Steve can see the stubbornness there, but he can also see the guilt and fear too, and the slow acceptance.

“I need it, Bucky,” Steve says calmly, getting into position in his sweatpants and t-shirt.

Bucky shifts, breaths slowed back to normal as he gets into his own position across from Steve. “I still don't like it,” he says, eyes darting to the mat before going up, searching Steve's face, “But I know. I just...” he trails off, and there are a few moments of them reading each other before they move.

Steve gets in a punch to Bucky's flesh shoulder and side, a kick to his outer thigh and a kick to the side of Bucky's face that Bucky moves with to lessen the force of the impact.

Bucky lands a hit on Steve's side and gets a kick halfway up his back on a spin, kicks Steve's bicep and punches the side of his face, Steve moving with the motion to lessen it like Bucky did with his kick.

In the end, it's Steve who gets them to the ground with a hard punch to Bucky's abdomen, tackling him to the mat. They wrestle with each other for a moment before calling a small break, Steve looking down at him, in his eyes.

“I just want to protect you, keep you safe,” Bucky says quietly, shifting his left foot along the metal under Steve's sweatpants on his right leg, “I can't do that again.” Bucky's expression goes hard for a moment before it cracks, head angling down.

Steve's eyes soften as he lowers himself down on top of Bucky, feels a warm and a metal arm wrap tightly around his back. They don't say anything, Steve just lets Bucky press his face into his neck and hold onto him, his own forearms on either side of Bucky's head.

“He's not Hydra, Buck, I know he's not,” Steve says quietly after Bucky's calmed down, pulling his face back out of Steve's neck to look up at him. Steve stares down at him, expression calm and a little pleading. “He isn't. I'd know, Buck, I'd know.”

Bucky stares up at him for a few, long moments, eyes searching his before they close. He let's a long, quiet sigh, opening his eyes again to look up at Steve. “I want to meet him. I _have_ to know for myself,” he says quietly, and Steve gives a small nod, leaning down to press a kiss to Bucky's lips, Bucky leaning up into it like a cat.

“Tomorrow?” Steve asks when they break.

“Tomorrow,” Bucky agrees, bringing a hand up to stroke through Steve's hair, shifting his hips after a moment with a raised brow up at Steve, ( _okay?_ ).

Steve shifts a little to ground down into Bucky in return, one of Bucky's legs sliding down while the other comes up against Steve's side, ( _okay_ ).

Bucky leans up as Steve leans down, lips meeting while they grind against each other, Bucky's metal fingers sliding up the bottom of his shirt.

They don't leave the gym for a while.

–

Bucky runs a different route in the morning, separate from Steve's. They decide to meet up at the park, Steve first, so Bucky doesn't just suspiciously appear and come off as overbearing (“Well, you are, Buck,” “I am _not,_ Steve _._ You make me sound like Mrs. Conley from the place down the hall of our old apartment, with the bad hip”).

“Hey, Sam,” Steve greets when he nears their usual meeting spot, Sam resting against the tree's trunk with sunlight spilling through the tops down between the reddening leaves, lighting him warm and gold. Steve's fingers twitch for a pencil; he'll have to wait until he gets back to the Tower.

“Josh,” Sam returns, giving a nod and grinning up to Steve as Steve offers a hand down to pull him up. “Man, it's starting to get cold,” Sam says, faking a full body shiver that has Steve cracking a smile.

“Don't like the cold?” he asks.

“Nah, more of a Summer man,” Sam replies, miming putting on a pair of sunglasses.

“I've gotten used to the cold,” Steve finds himself saying, a part of him worrying if that's giving too much away somehow.

But Sam doesn't look suspicious, just a little incredulous.

“I don't know how the hell you could get _used_ to the cold. I don't think I _ever_ could,” Sam replies, faking another full body shiver that makes Steve's smile widen further.

His ears pick up the faint sound of familiar steps from behind and Steve keeps himself relaxed, unsuspecting.

“Josh?” he hears Bucky call out, and turns his head towards one of the park's nearby entrances, lighting up his face with the appropriate, expected amount of surprise. “Mark?” he asks, making surprise color his tone. He only feels a little bad for the lie, but he'll do what he has to.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” Bucky jokes when he gets closer, hair down and pushed back behind his ears under a baseball cap, sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, man,” Sam greets, drawing both of their attentions.

“Hey,” Bucky responds, holding out his right hand, left in his hoodie pocket. He’s actually wearing running shorts. “I'm Mark, friend of Josh's.”

Sam takes it, shaking it as he says, “Sam Wilson. I'm new.”

Bucky laughs a little, pulling his hand back when they let go. “Yeah, Josh's mentioned you a few times. Nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Sam grins. “Nice to know I'm memorable.”

Steve hunches inwards slightly, playing at being a little embarrassed, though he doesn't have to play at it _completely_.

“You should come run with us sometime, or pass me by like this guy does,” Sam says, jerking a thumb in Steve's direction with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

Bucky lets out a laugh, a conspiratorial smirk lighting on his face. “Yeah, he's a quick one. Think I might be faster, though.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky in honesty, crossing his arms over his chest. “We both know that's not true.”

Bucky's eyebrows rise above his sunglasses, smirk widening. “We can test that tomorrow, then. You in, Sam?” he asks, turning his head slightly back in Sam's direction.

“Definitely,” Sam responds, smile widening before he raises his own eyebrows, “I'll bring popcorn for the show.”

“Looking forward to it, I've been on a health kick for too long now,” Bucky jokes, patting his flat, hard stomach over his hoodie.

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I bet.”

“Well, I gotta get going, but it was nice meeting you, Sam,” Bucky says, offering his hand again that Sam shakes.

“Nice meeting you, too. It's good to meet one of Josh's friends,” Sam replies, letting Bucky's hand go.

“Likewise,” Bucky replies, looking over the top of his sunglasses briefly to study Sam before looking over at Steve.

“See you later, Josh,” Bucky says, giving Steve a lazy salute before taking off out of the park.

“Bye, Mark!” Steve half yells after him before turning his attention back to Sam, who's got something a little like a pleased smile on his face.

“He served with me,” Steve explains, “We were friends, before. Have been for almost as long as I can remember.”

Sam nods. “I'm just glad you've got more than my company in your life. I know far too many people who come back and isolate themselves. I even tried to do the same thing,” Sam says before they start on their, becoming routine, walk.

Steve swallows a little while Sam's not looking, eyes darting to the side before looking back. “Yeah, it's hard meeting new people, especially now,” Steve replies, honest, even if Sam doesn't really understand.

Sam gives him a nod as they make their way around the park, children laughing a little ways off.

“Yeah, I get that,” Sam says after a moment, giving Steve a smile, “You'll get there.”

Steve smiles a little in return, part of him even believing it.

–

“Okay,” Bucky says when Steve meets him halfway back to the Tower, picking up his pace to start jogging alongside Steve, “He doesn't seem like Hydra.”

Steve can practically hear him forcing himself to say it. He suppresses a triumphant grin.

“Now was that so hard, _Mark_ ,” Steve teases as they jog around a group of clustered high schoolers.

“You know I'll never tell, _Josh_ ,” Bucky says back, a slight pout on his lips.

Steve cracks a small grin. “Uh-huh.”

“Shaddup,” Bucky grumbles back, “I still want to keep tabs on him, though, just to be safe.”

They split up to avoid a group of adults gathered in the middle of the sidewalk, coming back together after. The symbolism of the motion isn't lost on Steve.

“Fine,” he agrees, because he knows how Hydra works and they _won't_ just be going after _him and Bucky_.

“And I want Natasha to go with you in two days so she can get her own read on the guy,” Bucky continues.

Steve balks, reaching up to push his sliding glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “ _Maaark_ ,” he drags out in an almost whine, but Bucky just shakes his head, looking over at him over the tops of his sunglasses.

“I want Natasha to make sure,” Bucky repeats firmly, eyes serious on Steve's, “We're not half-assing this.”

Steve lets out a sigh, eyes going to the pavement as they slow to a stop at a streetlight. “Alright,” he finally agrees.

Bucky gives a contented nod, jabbing the crosswalk button with his elbow.

They wait until the crosswalk goes green before crossing, jogging back to the Tower.

–

Bucky runs with him the next morning, and they both end up passing Sam with a unison, “ _On your left_ ,” and, “ _On your right_.”

Sam let's out a loud, surprised sound before huffing, which quickly turns into a laugh as he comes to a stop. “You guys are killing me!” he calls out as they run ahead, Steve grinning and Bucky smirking. They share a look as they keep going. It feels _good_.

They run full tilt as soon as they're in an area where they're completely alone. Bucky's faster.

Bucky stays to talk with Sam for a bit before taking off, giving Steve a look over the top of his sunglasses as he rounds the park entrance corner, letting Steve know he's leaving for _him_. He's _agreeing_ to this. It makes something in Steve's chest and mind loosen, unwind, and he lets out a quiet, relieved breath. He didn't want to fight with Bucky on this, and he _needs_ this, so he would have had to if Bucky decided not to agree to it.

Natasha 'runs into them' the next morning after Steve and Sam's run, but she's just casually walking through the park instead of posing as a runner. She's dressed in a striped hoodie, tight jeans, and ankle high boots, appearing casual as can be when she's anything but.

“Is everyone you know attractive?” Sam says quietly to him as Natasha leaves. Steve just blinks, catches her smirk out of the corner of his eye as she rounds the park entrance corner.

“I. Sorry?” Steve asks, floundering a little.

Sam just gives a laugh, waving a hand in the air. “Never mind.”

Steve meets up with Natasha after he leaves the park, finding her a couple blocks up on his way back to the Tower in an alley off of the main sidewalk.

“Package is secure,” she says quietly, fingers going to her ear for his sake.

Steve's expression goes a little incredulous. “You're kidding,” he says, nearly deadpan.

Natasha pulls another earpiece out of her hoodie pocket and hands it to him. Steve slips it into his ear.

“ _Mark_ ,” Steve says more than asks, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“ _Hey, Stevie_ ,” Bucky replies, cheerful as ever. Steve's frown comes out full force. “ _You're cute when you're pouting_.” Steve straightens up, eyes darting around. He spots one of the security cameras aimed at them, moving back and forth too quickly to be on a scheduled turn rotation.

It moves up and down before going back to side to side, then up and down again.

“ _Mark_ ,” Natasha chides, “Stop making the security camera do _The Robot_.”

Bucky laughs in their ears, the camera going back to its regular rotation. “ _Spoilsport_ ,” he says. 

Steve rolls his eyes.

“ _Hey, don't roll your eyes at me. You'd be doing the same thing if you were in my position and saw how fun this is_ ,” Bucky retorts.

Steve just raises an eyebrow at the security camera and then he and Natasha exit the alley together. They walk side by side, making their way back to the Tower.

“ _So, what do you think, Natalia?_ ” Bucky asks into their ears. Steve glances over at her, curious, but pretty sure he already knows what she's going to say.

“He's clean,” Natasha replies, pace steady, “Sorry to disappoint,” she continues sarcastically at Bucky's sigh.

“ _Whatever, **fine** , Steve can keep him_,” Bucky says. Steve can hear the pout in his voice, smiles a little.

“I would have anyway,” Steve says, sending a victorious smirk up at a nearby camera.

“ _Yeah, yeah_ ,” Bucky replies, before continuing a little more seriously, “ _I know you would have_.”

They walk a few more blocks, Steve and Natasha in companionable silence while Bucky plays elevator music in their ears.

A couple more blocks later and Steve feels Natasha stiffen at his side, hears her say quietly, “Two o' clock.”

The music cuts off as Steve lets his eyes casually glance to the right. It only takes him a moment to spot them.

There's two people crossing the street up ahead to get onto the sidewalk they're on, and he recognizes both of them as two of Rumlow's agents from his stealth team.

“ _Mother **fucker** ,_” Bucky curses, a couple more following in Russian as Steve's eyes quickly glance around, trying to think of a way to escape without drawing attention, or, worse case, _fight_ without drawing too much attention.

“Here,” Natasha says quietly, grabbing Steve's wrist and pulling him off to the side just outside of a coffee shop. Steve tenses slightly at the touch, but flows into motion an instant later, training kicking in.

“ _ **Natalia**_ -” Bucky starts, voice urgent, but she cuts him off with a quiet, “I've got this.”

She looks up at Steve, pulling him in close as she leans back against the brick wall just to the side of the coffee shop's large window. “Kiss me,” she orders.

Steve blinks, eyes darting to the agents getting closer and _closer_ before looking back to her. He knows her plan, he's just not as sure as she is that it's going to work.

He leans down as she leans up and they close their eyes, kissing gently as she reaches up and around and slides her fingers through the ends of his hair at the back of his neck. It tickles. He doesn't react to it.

They wait a few moments, eyes cracking open to check before pulling apart, both sets of eyes glancing to his left to see the two agents continuing their walk down the sidewalk, oblivious.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh as he moves back, Natasha moving away from the wall after.

“Mark?” Steve asks after a few moments of silence on the other end of the comm line, he and Natasha making their way to the crosswalk up ahead.

“ _JARVIS_ ,” Bucky tries to say steadily, but Steve can hear him holding in something that might be the beginnings of a laugh, “ _Save that footage to my personal computer_.”

Steve almost trips over his own feet as they cross the street. Natasha grabs his arm to help him steady himself.

–

Natasha and Steve step off of the elevator onto the communal floor to the sound of two voices arguing. They step into the room and look towards the kitchen where the voices are coming from.

“-of _course_ JARVIS informed me. Barnes, how could you even try and keep a gem like this to yourself? I'm wounded. _Wounded_ ,” Tony practically whines.

Bucky huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's _my_ footage. _Mine_. You can't have it.”

Tony stands a little straighter, puffing his chest out a bit. “But it was taken with _my_ program,” he argues, triumphant smirk on his face ( _top that_ ).

Bucky snorts, standing up a little straighter in response, staring at him hard. “But _they're_ mine.” ( _just did_ ).

Tony stares at him for a long, hard moment, deflating when he can see Bucky won't be backing down. “ _Ugh. Fine_ ,” Tony surrenders sourly, turning and grabbing a couple packets of berries before heading out of the room, tossing one at Clint who's sat at the table watching the whole thing with a general air of ‘ _unimpressed amusement_ ,’ sipping on his coffee with his feet up on one of the chairs and laptop open in front of him on the table. He catches the packet of berries Tony tosses at him with his free hand, not even breaking his sip.

Steve rolls his eyes skyward while Bucky smirks cockily, victorious. Natasha heads over to Clint.

“Where's the footage,” Steve hears her ask, glancing over at her and Clint.

Clint gestures to the laptop in front of him and Natasha a seat at the table before pulling the laptop over to her, tapping once before Steve hears the start of a video. His ears pick up the sound of cars and chatter from where he remains standing. He closes his eyes for a moment and crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh.

Natasha looks over her shoulder at Bucky when the video clip ends, expression void of any emotion.

Bucky stares back, expression almost just as devoid of emotion, but Steve can see the determination and uncertainty warring there.

It's silent for a few, long moments before Natasha says, expression serious, “ _Would you like to play a game?_ ”

Bucky's face cracks in an instant and he's shaking with the effort of containing his laughter, but he keeps himself together long enough to say, “ _How about a nice game of chess?_ ” and then he's doubling over laughing. Clint spits out his coffee and Steve shields his face with an arm to try and avoid most of it aimed his direction, listening to Clint both curse and bless both Natasha and Bucky's existence while getting up and going over to the kitchen to clean up.

Steve watches everyone with narrowed eyes, standing confused in the middle of it all.

–

He asks JARVIS about what Natasha said that everyone seemed to get but him after he gets to his apartment. JARVIS looks up the information for him with the context given in the security footage and pulls up what he was looking for.

That night, Steve watches a movie called _War Games_ and memorizes all of the more noticeable lines.

–

He finds Bucky in the communal kitchen the next morning, Natasha sat at the table and Clint rummaging through the fridge.

Bucky pours his cereal into a bowl at the counter, hair a mess and eyes only half open, still not entirely awake, only halfway there.

Steve grabs the cereal box after Bucky puts it down and turns it over to look at the children's game on the back, focusing on it intently. He hears the fridge door close behind him and Clint approach.

“Hey, Steve. What are those?” Clint asks, pointing at the cartoon creatures to the side of the game on the back while Tony walks in.

“ _Codes_ ,” Steve says seriously, expression matching his voice, “ _To launch the missiles_.”

Clint's eyes go wide as Steve hears Natasha snort into the granola bar she's eating at the table, Tony letting out a bark of a laugh while Bucky's arm jerks with a startled laugh of his own. The milk he's pouring on his cereal spills out all over the counter and onto the floor and Bucky lets out a string of curses in English _and_ Russian at the mess while Clint turns around, heading over to Natasha while still laughing.

“You did it,” Clint tells her between laughs, sharing a fist bump with her, “ _You did it_.”

Steve grabs Bucky's half filled cereal bowl and slides open the drawer to his left, grabbing a spoon and then closing it before heading over to the table.

“ _Damn it, Steve_!” Bucky yells to the room at large while he grabs a towel to start trying to clean up the mess.

“Well, you're awake now aren't you?” Clint asks between laughs, dodging the soaked towel Bucky throws at him with deadly precision and letting it _**splat**_ against one of the large windows behind him instead, JARVIS' unimpressed voice saying, “ _Mr. Barnes, please kindly refrain from making even **more** of a mess. Thank you_ ,” making Clint let out a snort.

Steve takes a seat at the table to Natasha's right and spoons up some of the cereal.

“Steve, _Steve_ ,” he hears Clint say, still shaking with laughter. Steve holds up a fist to accept Clint's fist bump without looking as Clint passes taking a bite of cereal with his other hand. “ _I am so proud,_ ” Clint declares as he leaves the room, wiping a tear from his eye.

Steve looks up as he swallows his mouthful and shares a look with Natasha, a proud, mischievous glint in her eyes while she finishes her granola bar and gets up to throw away the wrapper, Bucky yelling, “ _Fuck you, Clint, this is all your fault!_ ” in the direction of the hall as he reaches for another towel.

“ _It was yours and you know it!_ ” Steve hears Clint yell back in reply before disappearing into the elevator.

“You are the most graceless assassins I have _ever_ seen,” Tony declares as he heads for the coffee machine, “JARVIS, save this entire section of the security feed to my personal server.”

“ _Yes, Sir_ ,” JARVIS replies dutifully from the ceiling.

Bucky lets out another string of curses while he goes back to cleaning up the mess, glaring in Tony's direction every so often while Tony just smirks back, waiting for his coffee.

Steve eats his cereal while humming a little, feeling pleased.


	11. Obsessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm horrible fdjksla. I forgot to say, a lot of the hilarity in the previous chapter was aprofessorstale's brilliant ideas holy crap. <3 SO GO GIVE HER LOVE AND PRAISE AND WORSHIP BECAUSE SHE COMES UP WITH THE BEST THINGS/IDEAS.

Steve hikes Bucky's leg up higher against his side, pulling him closer as they both thrust into their joined hands, one of Steve's over one of Bucky's and fingers laced, precome making their grips slick. He presses Bucky further back against the wall of the bathroom stall, eyes darting down to watch Bucky bite his lower lip hard to keep from making a sound before looking up to catch his eyes, jeans loose around their hips and hats and glasses askew. There's no one else in the bathroom, yet, but they're not about to press their luck more than it already is so they keep quiet.

Bucky pulls him closer with the metal hand he's got twisted in the front of Steve's hoodie, both of them stopping just short of a kiss as they stare at each other, hot breaths puffing against each others' faces as they move, hands picking up their pace.

“ _Steve_ -” Bucky near whispers just as the bathroom door opens and Steve crushes his mouth against his, swallowing the rest of the sound while they keep moving silently, attention only a quarter on the sounds of someone undoing their zipper at a urinal diagonally across from the stall they've locked themselves into, the rest focused on themselves and each other.

Bucky stutters slightly before moving their hands faster, arching his back against the wall and pushing into Steve's front as he comes without a sound, eyes squeezed closed and mouth pressed firmly to Steve's, the quiet, muffled sound of fabric tearing not making its way past the metal walls of the stall they're in.

Steve follows him a couple of thrusts later, squeezing his eyes shut as his orgasm hits and coming just as silently, shifting their hands so the mess doesn't land all on their shirts. He's mostly successful.

They open their eyes slowly, breathing into each others' mouths as they listen to the urinal flush and the person wash their hands, waiting for the door of the bathroom to open and close before they break apart, panting.

Steve backs up a little while easing his grip on Bucky's leg, letting it slide back down so Bucky can put his foot back down on the floor. He reaches over and gathers some toilet paper, using it to clean themselves up and frowning a little at the couple of streaks that landed on the front of his hoodie near the tear Bucky's metal hand ripped in it. He looks up to see Bucky smirking down at the streaks and tear, eyes glancing up to catch Steve's as his expression goes smug, tilting his head back against the wall.

Steve makes a face at him before cleaning it off as best as he can, tucking himself away after throwing the tissue into the toilet next to them while Bucky does the same.

Steve unzips his hoodie after and slides it off, turning it inside out and laying it over his shoulder as he moves over to open the bathroom stall door. Bucky flushes the toilet before following him out and they both head over to wash their hands.

Bucky turns back to him after they dry off the water, cracking a grin as he reaches up and readjusts Steve's fake glasses and hat. Steve reaches up to do the same during mid-fixing of his glasses, brushing Bucky's bangs back behind his ears once he's finished.

Steve leans in and kisses Bucky once on the lips, quick, giving a grin of his own before turning and exiting the bathroom first, Bucky following a minute after so they don't look too suspicious.

He gets about five feet back into the coffee shop before he comes to an abrupt stop, Bucky colliding into him a moment later. Steve feels Bucky shift, leaning to the side of him to get a look around Steve and see what caused him to stop, and then Steve feels Bucky freeze, too.

“Sam,” Steve manages to get out, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

Sam looks over, just picking up his coffee from the barista. “Josh! Hey, man.” His eyes shift to Bucky, smile still on his face. “Hey, Mark.”

Bucky comes out from behind Steve and gives a short wave with his right hand, left already plunged deep into the pocket of his hoodie and body mostly relaxed, but still a little stiff. “Hey, Sam,” Bucky says, putting a smile onto his face. It's only a little forced.

Steve reaches up and fidgets with his glasses with his left hand, gripping the hoodie rolled a little to hide the mess and tear a little tighter in his right fist.

They're all quiet for a moment before Bucky says, “Um. I was just leaving. Had my coffee already. I'll see you guys later,” and then he's leaving Steve behind, abandoning him to public mortification. Steve narrows his eyes slightly at the smirk Bucky tosses over his shoulder as he exits the coffee shop, but Steve can just make out the hint of fear he's masking behind his eyes.

“Coffee?” Sam asks a moment later, and Steve practically jumps, eyes darting back to him.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Steve replies, forcing his breathing to cooperate as he goes to get in the small line, Sam leaving him to find a booth.

Steve gets his coffee (“ _Black, two sugars, please_ ”) and heads over to the booth Sam picked by one of the large windows, sliding in opposite him and setting his coffee on top of the table, just avoiding sitting in the ray of afternoon sunlight angled onto the seat at his right. He keeps the hoodie close to his side.

Steve forces himself to let go of it after a moment and bring his hand up onto the table, holding the near flimsy coffee container between his hands and letting the heat warm his palms through the cup.

Sam takes a sip. “Been here before?”

Steve looks up, glancing around the coffee shop for a moment before he replies, “Once or twice. It's nice.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam says, taking another sip. Steve takes a sip of his own coffee, the logical part of his brain deeming now the appropriate time to do so. He barely tastes it over the nerves at being caught in public.

“They make some pretty good pastries, too,” Sam offers, “I recommend the Pumpkin Bread, especially since the season's almost right for it.”

Steve glances back up at him, cracking a small smile at the tension breaker. “Not hungry now, but I'll give it a try next time.”

Sam nods, a knowing smile curling up his lips.

Steve tries to keep his nerves in check, but it's an uphill battle, both at being caught and at being in the open (it's a work in progress). He glances out the window to his right at the city and the people walking by, always on the lookout for any familiar faces he needs to avoid. JARVIS had alerted Tony about Rumlow's team before they got back to the Tower, so he's reverse tracking their locations as of this morning. He said he would have done it sooner but he'd been up for the last four days working.

Steve takes another sip of his coffee.

Sam waits until Steve swallows before saying, “Look, man, no judgment.”

Steve's eyes dart up, attention zeroed in and focused almost all on Sam.

Sam lets go of his coffee to raise both of his hands with his eyebrows, adding in a shrug at the look. He wraps one of his hands back around his coffee container when he's done, forearm resting on the table top. “I'm serious. Whatever you do or don't do and who you do it with, that's your business. This is New York after all, you won't find many judging you here, me included, if that's what's got you so tense.”

Steve stares at him for a few moments longer, but Sam remains an immovable rock under his gaze and Steve finally lets out a breath, almost collapsing in on himself. He hunches over the table a little, leaning on it on his forearms, coffee container still between his palms. The gentle heat feels good.

“I'm not- We're not-” Steve tries, cuts himself off and then lets out a frustrated sigh, glancing back up at Sam, “It's complicated.”

Sam nods, taking another sip of his coffee. “That's fine. Like I said, judgment-free zone, so if you want to talk, you can talk. If not, that's fine too,” he says with a smile.

Steve's own lips twitch up slightly for a moment before he lets his eyes drop back to the table, taking a sip of his coffee to give himself a moment to think.

“It's...hard to explain, what I have with Mark,” Steve starts after a few moments, Sam's patience unending and a comfort. Still doesn't make it much easier to talk about things, though. “We've been through a lot,” Steve says quietly, thoughts racing, eyes trained on the top of his coffee lid; it's easier to talk that way, “But it's more than that. We've known each other since we were kids, teenagers. Took care of each other and lived out of each other's pockets almost since day one. Then...when we were older, Mark enlisted and, eventually, I followed him. It hasn't...It changed us, both of us, in ways that I can't even begin to try and find the words for, not even sure if they exist. And now we're...this.” Steve gestures a little with a hand before letting it settle back around the coffee container, face scrunched up a little in confusion. “I'm not sure...” he trails off before starting again, “I'd die for him in a heartbeat, though, would kill for him, too...” he trails off again, going quiet for a few moments and taking another sip of his coffee while chancing a glance at Sam. 

He's listening intently, but he was right, Steve can't find any judgment in his stare.

Steve loosens a little more, leaning back in the booth seat and letting his forearms slide off of the table with the motion so that it's just his hands loosely wrapped around his coffee on the table, the container dragging quietly closer to the edge. 

“I'm not sure how to word how I feel about him,” Steve continues, voice quieter so it's for Sam's ears only, “I know it's not exactly healthy, I don't think it has been for a long time. All I know is that I need him, can't- _refuse_ to live without him. How that manifests itself is as much your guess as it is mine. Sometimes it's one thing, sometimes it's another, sometimes it's something new and completely different. But I don't...I wouldn't say we're exactly _dating_ ,” Steve says with a confused twist to his lips, taking another sip of his coffee.

He and Bucky have both done things with each other _and_ others that would've had most of the nuns at the orphanage down their old block screaming Bible verses at them on repeat. Those poor women are probably rolling in their graves now and every time Steve and Bucky even so much as _look_ at each other. 

He looks back up at Sam.

Sam takes a sip of his own, eyes on the table as he processes Steve's words.

Finally, Sam looks up after a few quiet minutes, expression calm, open. “Well, you're right about it being unhealthy,” he says with a little humor before his expression turns serious again, “But war changes people, life or death situations _change_ _people._ _How_ they change people is different from person to person, as well as how those people deal with those changes.”

Steve listens quietly, coffee forgotten for a moment as he watches Sam.

“Look, I meant what I said about not judging you,” Sam starts, and Steve tenses slightly, because starting with _that_ sounds like it's going to lead somewhere he won't like, “And I won't. But, from what I see? What I saw today? Just from then to now you two seem different, like things might be changing already. You seem more comfortable, looser even compared to the first day I met you. And, this is just my observation, but you seem to light up more when he's around, even if he's only around for a few minutes. Unhealthy or not, I know _that's_ good.”

Steve freezes for a moment, eyes widening a little, thoughts halted from suspicion and defensiveness to stumbling and curious.

Sam shrugs with a smile at the look on his face. “If being with him works for you, makes you both happy, who's to tell you to stop? As long as you two don't hurt anyone, or yourselves,” he adds, “That I can’t condone.”

Steve lets his eyes drop back to the table in thought and to hide what he knows Sam might catch a glimpse of if he doesn't. He listens to Sam take a sip of his coffee while he thinks, glancing over at the hoodie on the seat to his right. He takes a sip of his own coffee before looking back up to Sam.

“I think you've been shrinking me this whole time, Doc,” Steve says jokingly, changing the subject.

Sam blinks before letting out a quiet laugh. “Sorry,” he says, raising his hands in surrender, “I've been working at the VA for so long it just happens without my say so at this point.”

Steve smiles a little, trying to ignore how shaken he actually is at the revelation of how much he's willingly told Sam, full details and history besides, and everything Sam's said in return. He needs...He needs some time to think.

Sam seems to have picked up on his mood and gives a nod, waving a hand towards the shop's exit.

“Go, run, take some time to think to yourself. It's a lot to absorb, I know,” Sam says, grinning a bit.

Steve smiles a little gratefully before taking one last, long drink of his coffee, grabbing his hoodie up and sliding out of the booth. He takes a step and then stops, looking back down at Sam. “ _Thank you_ ,” he says quietly, _honestly,_ _meaning it_.

Sam blinks up at him before smiling more openly. “'Course. What are friends for?”

Steve pauses, looking at him closely. “...Are we friends?”

Sam raises his eyebrows teasingly, smirking for a moment before it stretches into another knowing smile. “Yup. We are.”

A smile slowly eases onto Steve's face without his permission, and Sam's widens even further in return, giving him a confirming nod.

Steve gives a nod back before he starts moving again.

“I'll see you later, Josh,” Sam says as he goes. Steve gives a small wave over his shoulder with his coffee as he looks back, smile still on his face, throwing the coffee container away on his way out the door. He has some things to think about.

He ends up running from the shop to the park, walking the perimeter between the edge of trees and the fence wrapped around the whole thing when he gets there, thoughts a whirl but somehow blank at the same time. He can't seem to focus on any one thing, going back and forth between what Sam said, what Steve _himself_ said, and all of his interactions with Bucky.

Steve stops walking for a moment and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again and walking over to a nearby tree, sitting at the best angle to view the park while keeping an eye on the area past the fence. He leans back against the tree trunk, right leg up and left out, tilting his head back and looking up into the reddening leaves above, sunlight streaming through at an angle and catching them on fire like Natasha's hair. It's beautiful. He closes his eyes, body stiffening automatically at the vulnerability before he forces it to relax, adjusting so his hearing dominates his other senses, listening to the sounds of children and families and pets and _cars_ while trying to organize his mind. The sounds take up spaces in his head and help him clear it.

How _does_ he feel about Bucky? He wasn't lying when he'd told Sam it was complicated, because it was. It was anything but simple. Everything compiled and stacked on top of each other in a disorganized mess in his head. Everything's in some loose semblance of order until the train and the fall, then it's like the playlist JARVIS helped him make on shuffle, years and dates and events all out of order but still potent when he recalls them, and in _all of it_ there's _Bucky_. There's always been Bucky, well, almost always. They weren't born together and they didn't meet until they were kids, but that's only a few years out of a number that's almost a century. That thought alone is jarring.

Almost one hundred years. There's couples as old as he logically is who have been married for as long as he and Bucky have been killing, and isn't that a strange thought. But, it's their life, and maybe it isn't exactly a typical marriage, but in a way it... _is_ a marriage, isn't it?

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head minutely before letting his thoughts drift in and out of focus again, letting the tension fall back away.

It might be the worst time to be thinking about this, he'd feel like laughing if he didn't understand how important it really was. They're in war, they've almost _always_ been in war, and when you're in war you take whatever moment you can get and hold onto it as tightly as you can. You don't waste precious time acting proud or like a fool and let it slip by because you could be dead the next minute or lose someone or something important, and Steve doesn't want to waste any more time than Hydra has already made him lose. They've taken enough from him, from _both_ of them. But what does he want to do about it?

Hydra's still out there, their lives may never get any better than they are now, but maybe that's reason enough?

Steve bites his bottom lip in thought. But how does _he feel_ about Bucky?

He hears familiar footsteps a little while later, not ones he hears as often, but he recognizes them all the same.

The person they belong to sits down next to him, keeping a little space between them, but still close enough to make it clear they're sitting together.

“Heard you got caught red handed,” Clint says from his right, teasing full on in his tone.

Steve lets out a quiet snort, keeping his eyes closed. He's not embarrassed Clint knows, Clint is a different matter. Sam took him by surprise, and he doesn't take surprises well. That and he and Bucky haven't done anything in public. It was...new, nerve wracking and thrilling all at once. It had set them both on edge, but that had just heightened everything else in a way. Getting caught made him second guess it, though.

And he was worried about what Sam would think. He's not ashamed of what he does with Bucky, but he _was_ worried he'd lose the only friend he'd just made outside of the strange group he and Bucky have wound up with.

“Let me guess,” Steve starts, almost deadpan, “JARVIS was keeping an eye on us in the coffee shop and Stark just _happened_ to notice.”

“Something like that,” Clint says. Steve can hear the smirk in his voice. He cracks an eye open and looks over at him. Clint's sitting cross legged, sunglasses propped on top of his head with a light jacket of black and purple and black pants, eyes scanning the park before glancing over at Steve. Clint grins.

Steve snorts quietly again before sitting up and opening his eyes, a small smile pulling at his lips.

They sit in companionable silence for a little while, Clint's eyes roaming the park and tree branches, Steve watching the children running, chasing each other and playing at the center of the park. Watches the families and parents watching the children.

“You ever think about kids, Clint,” Steve says, eyes staying on the center of the park.

He feels Clint look at him for a moment before following Steve's gaze, shifting slightly to get a little more comfortable.

“Not really,” he replies honestly, “Grew up in a terrible place, got into a life that never really gave you _room_ to think about things like that, let alone gave you the _opportunity_. I mean, could you imagine?” Clint makes a dismissive, disagreeing noise at the back of his throat, not really expecting Steve to reply. “And me and 'Tasha have an on again off again thing, and she's never brought it up and I don't ask, but I'm pretty sure we've got a mutual agreement of not having any, at least not for a long time, if we even end up together that long.”

“Howard once told me you should ‘never think you know what a woman is thinking’,” Steve says a little quietly, lips quirking up slightly, “Because then ‘your goose is well and truly cooked.'”

He sees Clint look at him out of the corner of his eye before he hears a snort, followed by a low laugh.

“Well, I guess now we know where Tony got it,” Clint says.

Steve huffs a laugh before leaning back a little. “Careful, JARVIS is probably recording all of this,” Steve jokes.

“Eh, let’im,” Clint replies breezily.

They're both quiet for a few moments before Clint asks, “You ever think about kids?” a light, cool breeze blowing through the trees.

“Maybe, once,” Steve replies quietly, letting his eyes lose focus a little on a distant tree, “A very long time ago. Before and after that brief moment of possibility, though? No. And I don't think I could even entertain the idea, now.”

Clint doesn't say anything, just sits quietly, pulling recently started to wilt grass out of the ground by his crossed legs, waiting for Steve to say whatever is on his mind.

“I don't know how I feel about Bucky, and Sam's words are making me think about it and now they won't stop,” Steve finally lets out. He feels Clint flinch slightly next to him.

“I did not sign up for this conversation,” Clint says, making a gagging noise that makes Steve laugh, looking over at him when he settles down to see Clint smiling.

Clint lets out a sigh after a moment, leaning further back against the tree and closing his eyes. 

“You want my honest opinion?” he asks.

“No, I want you to lie to me,” Steve deadpans.

Clint snorts a laugh before settling down again. “Alright, here's what I think,” Clint starts, tone gone serious, “I think you two are messed up in ways no one can fix. I think you two tear and cling to each other so desperately that you're going to unwind whatever thread might be holding you each together and neither of you will even care. I think your lives and relationship is a violent tragedy that won't end good, but then, I don't think any of us are going to get a happy ending.”

Steve's quiet as he listens, absorbing Clint's words.

“But,” Clint continues, turning his head to look at him, and Steve turns his own to look back, “I think you also save each other, in your own messed up ways. I think you help each other, fix each other in ways none of us can really understand unless we go through the same thing, or at least something pretty fucking _similar._ Which, let's face it, Natasha's probably the closest and that's still not quite close enough. I think there's hope there, somewhere, that maybe you two can become a little less fucked up by sticking around each other. Although, pretty sure the space you two are cultivating is helping. Being around each other _all the fucking time_ must drive you both _nuts_ at some point. I know it would me _._ ”

They stare at each other for a long moment, Steve thoughtful and Clint waiting.

Finally, Steve gives a small nod, turning his head back to look at the other trees laid out in front of them.

“Look,” Clint sighs after a few minutes of quiet, drawing Steve's attention back to him, “Does he make you happy? Like. Not a fucked up, let's-hold-hands-like-Thelma-and-Louise-and-sail-off-a-fucking-cliff-together happy, but something that feels... _good_. Does it click inside you like a landslide hitting home.”

Steve blinks at him, not catching the reference but understanding the meaning. He looks back out at the trees, contemplative, thinking over everything he's gone through with Bucky, everything they've gone through for _each other_. And he thinks about them now, in the present, running together at night, in the mornings, at noon. He thinks about them sparring in the gym, pushing each other to do better, be more precise, shoving at each other sometimes in fun and tearing at each other when it's not. He thinks about Bucky with short hair that grew long, then ended up somewhere in the middle, just like they did.

He thinks about the look on Bucky's face when he realized they wouldn't be able to stop Lukin from taking Steve's leg, he thinks about the look on Bucky's face when he'd turned to Lukin, the sounds and low words Steve could hear from where he was on the floor, the look on Bucky's face when he'd turned around and told Steve he would never apologize for doing what he did to Lukin.

He thinks about Bucky trying to help him learn to walk again in the med lab, about him shaking against Steve and his tears landing in his hair when Steve had finally broke down. Thinks about his arm around Steve's waist, helping him get back to the med lab while carrying Steve's twisted crutches.

He thinks about being skinny and internally so much younger in a back alley, getting beat and getting back up and then hearing Bucky, turning around to find him standing there in his brand new uniform instead of the bully he'd been facing. He thinks about them being kids and playing at adventure within the limits of a single street, but escaping to whole new worlds. He thinks of Bucky's chest against his back trying to help Steve breathe because of asthma and broken ribs at separate points in time, telling Steve to match his own breaths in one, one hand over Steve's heart in both.

He thinks about Bucky grinning and smirking at him now, sharper than he did when he did those same things seventy years ago, but still _lively_ , still _capable_ of being lively. He thinks about Bucky's hands and mouth and body on his, of Bucky's fists hitting him and soothing him at different times.

Steve closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, smells the trees and the grass and _New York City_ on the light, cool breeze blowing through the park. He hears the children laughing and playing and families and pets and cars, teenagers chatting to each other and on their phones, shoe heels on pavement and strollers down sidewalks.

He feels Clint shift next to him before getting up. Steve opens his eyes a moment later to find Clint standing in front of him, holding a hand out. Steve thinks of how he can't bring himself to fully trust anyone but Bucky, but wants to try anyway.

He reaches up, lets Clint pull him to his feet, feels metal shift against metal under his sweatpants and the new balance he's found with a new leg, can almost feel the cool metal of Bucky's arm under his right hand’s fingertips.

Clint doesn't say anything, just looks at him for a moment before smiling and sliding his sunglasses down to cover his eyes, starting to walk towards the nearby park exit. Steve watches him for a moment, dusting off his pants before following.

–

They both take the elevator up to the communal floor when they get to the Tower and step out, Steve's ears picking up another argument from down the hall. They seem to be becoming a common occurrence the longer he and Bucky stay at the Tower.

“ _No_ ,” Steve hears Bucky say vehemently, walks out into the room to see him pointing at a list of Disney movies on a hologram floating a couple feet away from him and Tony, who's got a frustrated look on his face. “ _We're going chronologically_ ,” Bucky continues, jabbing a finger at the title _Cinderella_.

“But, _Peter Pan_ ,” Tony stresses, gesturing towards the hologram as well.

“ _I said **no**_ ,” Bucky says, finally catching sight of Steve and straightening up, pointing towards the hologram again with his metal fingers. “ _Steve. **Disney**_. Get your ass over here so we can marathon all of the movies we both missed. _In chronological order_ ,” he adds firmly towards Tony.

Bucky might not have stuck with art like Steve did, but Steve knows he loved the animation just as much.

Tony throws his hands up in the air in defeat and drops dramatically onto the couch, sprawling out to take up as much of it as he can out of spite while Bucky tilts his head back, reveling in his victory.

Natasha gets up from the table by the windows and heads over to the couch, Clint joining her while Thor and Bruce come in from the hall on the other side of the room. Tony sits up and looks pleadingly at Bruce as soon as he enters. “ _Bruce_ ,” Tony whines, putting on a betrayed look when Bruce shakes his head.

“I'm letting Sergeant Barnes call this one,” Bruce states calmly, walking over and taking a seat to Tony's right.

Tony lets out a huff while Thor sits to Tony's left, reaching for one of the two large popcorn bowls set out on the table in front of the couch.

Steve watches them all gather as he makes his way over, eyes finally landing on Bucky once Steve’s made his way around the couch, stepping over Tony's sprawled feet while Thor and Bruce pull theirs in politely.

He stops at the middle, looking down at the seat between Thor and Bucky, part of him wanting to recoil and run right out of the room, the other wanting to sink into it and maybe never come out of the warm feeling starting to crawl up the inside of his chest. He’s afraid of it _and_ he wants it.

Gentle fingers wrap around his right wrist after a few moments of him staring while Tony orders JARVIS to start the movie.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly as the lights of the whole floor dim, and Steve's eyes dart from the seat to Bucky's. They look at each other for a long moment, heat blossoming in Steve's chest before he turns around, slowly sitting down in the seat Bucky made for him, Natasha and Clint on Bucky's left. 

“You good?” Bucky asks him quietly as the Disney logo sparkles across the wall the movie’s being projected on ten feet in front of them, from some point on the ceiling behind them by JARVIS.

Steve looks over at him for a moment, cheeks warming a little in the dark and blue glow from the movie before he looks down at Bucky's fingers in the changing light, still wrapped around his wrist. He shifts his hand slightly to lace their fingers together instead.

“Yeah,” Steve says just as quietly, “I'm good,” he finishes softly, and finds he means it.

Bucky's fingers tighten against his as Steve leans into Bucky's shoulder a little, eyes rising to the movie on the wall, settling in.

Bucky leans a little into him in return.


	12. Poison & Wine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that the chapter is titled after and that is playing _in_ the chapter; http://youtu.be/WfzRlcnq_c0
> 
> P.S. I did the name thing for you cackles.

Bucky nudges Steve's shoulder somewhere in the middle of their fourth Disney movie in the list (something about dogs falling in love, it's strange and oddly adorable) and Steve doesn't jerk awake or snap his eyes open. He wakes slow, trusting in the way he stays leaned against Bucky's side, lifting his head to drag his drowsy eyes up to Bucky's face. Steve's relaxed, comfortable, and Bucky almost wishes he'd let him sleep.

“Come on,” he says softly, shifting them both a little before carefully getting up, offering a hand down that Steve slowly takes and gently pulling him up off of the couch, wrapping gentle fingers around both of Steve's wrists.

He looks over and Clint's got his head in Natasha's lap, her fingers resting in his hair while they both watch the movie. Clint's eyes are half closed and he has his own fingertips pressed gently to Natasha's outer thigh.

Natasha gives Bucky a look ( _go the other way;_ _don't block the movie_ ) before her eyes shift to Steve for a moment, angling her head back towards the elevator after she looks back at him. Bucky nods slightly in return before turning and leading Steve passed the tangle of Thor, Tony, and Bruce's legs, just barely managing to keep them both from tripping.

Thor and Tony have almost single handedly decimated both of the gigantic bowls of popcorn, Bruce having helped a little, and now Bruce is leaning against the armrest dozing while Tony's got his head angled back against the couch, snoring. Thor's eyes are locked on the movie, enraptured. Bucky glances at it to see two cats making a mess of the dog's owners’ house and thinks Thor is probably relating them to his brother, and leaves him to it. He tugs Steve gently towards the elevator by a wrist, letting his other hand slide off and drop back to his side. He guides them both inside the elevator and instructs JARVIS to take them to Steve's floor (and to dim the lights, which JARVIS does).

The doors slide open on Steve's floor a few minutes later and Bucky starts to walk, Steve taking a step after him before he stops, making Bucky stop with him with a slight tug on the grip Bucky still has on Steve's wrist.

“Your floor,” Steve mumbles, eyes half open as he looks at Bucky tiredly in the dimmed light.

Bucky looks back at him for a moment before he nods, taking a few steps back to where he was before, the doors sliding closed and JARVIS guiding the elevator to the floor below Steve's.

They both exit, Bucky moving slow and tugging a still half asleep Steve gently along behind him.

Once they're inside, he starts leading them to the guest room, unsure of where exactly Steve wants to sleep. Steve stops him when they've just passed the door to his own room, shaking his head slightly when Bucky looks back at him. Bucky changes direction and pushes the door to Steve’s room open, leading Steve inside and quietly closing it behind them.

He crawls onto the bed first, keeping his grip on Steve's wrist as Steve crawls onto it after, neither bothering with changing or removing their clothes.

Steve curls up against his chest as soon as their heads hit the pillows, and Bucky rests his chin on the top of Steve's head, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. He feels Steve shift and press his closed mouth to Bucky's skin just above his t-shirt collar before settling back down, his breaths starting to even out. Bucky brings his hand up and brushes his metal fingers through the side of Steve's hair, and then Steve's asleep, Bucky following a short while after.

\--

Steve wakes slowly, feeling warm with his face pressed into familiar smelling heat, a chest steadily rising and falling beneath him. He doesn't open his eyes just yet, just listens to and feels Bucky breathing beneath him, feels his arms wrapped around him. His thoughts slowly start to stir and he forces them to quiet, doesn't want to think about anyone's words or recent revelations yet, just wants to _be_ in this moment. It takes him a moment to realize that neither of them woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Disney movies and cuddling seem to be a winning combination.

He hears Bucky's breath shift minutely a few minutes later and knows he's awake. Bucky shifts slightly under him not long after, says, “Hey,” quietly, a little froggily, knows Steve's awake, too. Steve's lips turn up at the corners without his permission and he lifts his head, resting his chin on the top of Bucky's chest where Steve's somehow become half-sprawled over him in the night, Bucky looking back down at him with his own smile.

“Hey,” Steve says just as quiet, sunlight streaming in through the large windows, almost hitting his face. He can feel it in his hair, feels like it might be making him glow on the outside and making him look like how he feels on the inside. He can see the light streaking across the lower half of Bucky's face, partway up his neck.

Something in Bucky's face shifts after a few minutes of staring at each other, and Steve's not quite sure how to read it, which surprises him. Reading Bucky has rarely been a problem.

“No morning run?” Bucky asks with raised eyebrows, voice still quiet.

Steve looks at him for a few moments, feels a slight tension in the air between them before nodding slightly, pushing himself up on his hands and knees and scooting over to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor and standing up.

He's about to take a step before he stops, turning back around to look at Bucky who's propped up on his elbows, face and hair lit in the glow of the morning sun and expression a little confused at the previous tension.

Steve leans over on his hands and right knee, left stretched out behind him as he leans down to peck Bucky on the lips quick before quickly leaving the room, catching a glimpse of Bucky's stunned expression as Steve closes the door behind himself.

He leaves the apartment quickly, cheeks feeling warm. He knows his ears are too.

\--

Bucky lays there for a moment, staring at the door after Steve before he shakes his head quickly, sitting up and scooting to the end of the bed to get up and head to the bathroom.

He flips the light on, turning to look in the mirror for a long minute.

His hair is still short, bangs down to his jaw and the back layered short at his neck, a day's stubble on his face and no bags under his eyes. He looks the same, better than he has in years, but he _feels_ …

He shakes his head again, turning away from the mirror to pull his shirt off and drop it on the sink's counter, unbuttoning his jeans as he heads for the shower. He's not sure what he feels.

\--

Steve runs a simple route this morning, head too filled with... _everything_ to focus on anything more complicated. He passes Sam without his usual, “On your left,” lost in thought, and keeps going. Sam doesn't say anything until they meet up at the park, expression a little concerned.

“You alright, man?” Sam asks, reaching out a hand to squeeze Steve's shoulder gently when he doesn't immediately reply.

“How would you describe 'love,' Sam?” Steve asks after a few moments of silent thought, eyebrows pulled together as he looks at him.

Sam's eyebrows shoot up before he pulls his hand back, nodding toward their usual path around the park's perimeter before he starts walking, Steve watching his expression go thoughtful as he follows him.

“I would describe it as...” Sam trails off in thought, looking up at the tree branches stretched out overhead above them while crossing his arms as they walk. Steve waits quietly, patiently.

“I would describe it as a fire in your chest,” Sam finally says, eyes looking over at Steve, “But one that's different for everyone and the different kinds of love there are. For me, family feels like a warm ember, sometimes hotter, sometimes cooler. Pets are like little bursts of warmth when they run up to you and when they curl around your feet at night. Friends are like a bonfire, always there and warmer the closer you get, less so the further you move away. But, I'm assuming you mean a different kind of love,” Sam finishes, smile sliding onto his face and going a little knowing.

Steve forces down his immediate reaction to duck his head and blush, raising an eyebrow. “I might be,” he says slowly, quietly.

Sam nods once, looking back out at the path they're walking on. “I would describe romantic love as...a sort of combination of all three, but with aches that feel good and all consuming. It's a fire that burns strong and takes everything with it, whether the relationship goes good or bad,” Sam says, looking over at him, “You think you're in love?”

Steve's eyes dart to the ground as they walk, running over the thoughts in his head and over Sam's words. Over memories from decades ago and memories of now. “I don't know,” he says honestly, but it doesn't feel quite right, “Maybe. Yes? I've only felt something like this once, but it was...different, and with someone else. And it wasn't nearly as complicated,” Steve says with a sigh, looking back up at Sam.

Sam tilts his head a little, a question ( _how so?_ ).

Steve just shrugs slightly, looking up into the tree branches. The leaves have already started to fall.

“The person it was less complicated with, it was quick. It was like a sudden power surge up my spine when I first saw her, made it hard to look at anyone else and kept me on my toes. When I was around her I kept feeling like I kept screwing up, but that she was being patient with me, in her own way,” Steve says, a smile finding its way onto his lips as he talks, “It didn't last long because of circumstances out of both of our control, but while it did...It was something else.”

“The second one...” Steve trails off, smile sliding off of his face as he thinks, expression going thoughtful, “It's...a _mess_ , a real mess. It started out as something different and then it got warped, twisted, and now things are starting to straighten back out, but they're different. We've changed and adapted as situations have made us, but I wasn't expecting things to turn this way. When we first... _connected_ , it was violent, but it quieted down something in both of us. Now, it's...” Steve trails off again, eyes going back to the ground. He doesn't really want to talk about this, but he needs to. “It's...becoming more gentle, _is_ more gentle. Less...desperation and need and comfort and more...desire, want, patience, for me at least,” he finishes, risking a glance over at Sam after a few moments of silence.

Sam's expression is open, but Steve can see the slight worry there.

“It's not abusive, is it?” Sam asks directly, and Steve blinks back, unprepared for the question.

“Uh...no, I wouldn't say it's that,” Steve replies.

“You sure?” Sam asks, arms having lowered back to his sides at some point while Steve was talking.

Steve straightens up, squaring his shoulders a little. “It's complicated, but I wouldn't call it abusive. It's...” he trails off, trying to find the words for it, “Therapeutic?” he tries, biting the inside of his lip for a moment, expression screwed up a little in thought and confusion. That word isn't quite right either.

Sam's eyebrows jump up before he looks back out at the path for a few moments, eyes darting back to Steve, his expression a little incredulous. “'Therapeutic,'” he almost deadpans.

Steve stiffens a little, stare going a little hard. “It's not abuse, it's...confession, maybe. _Expression_. And it's gotten a lot better,” he finishes resolutely.

Sam stares at him for a long minute before he finally looks back out at the path, giving a small nod. “Alright,” he says, though he doesn't sound entirely convinced. He moves on anyway, and Steve's sure he's going to be bringing it up again later. “Well, sounds like it might be love, in its own way,” Sam says, letting out a sigh before he continues, “Even with the violence. I know everyone expresses themselves in different ways, but you're right, it does sound complicated.”

Steve looks out over at the park for a few minutes as they walk, slipping his hands into his hoodie pockets. “I don't know what to do with it,” he says quietly, honestly, not looking back at Sam, “He means the world to me, everything, but I don't know if I should...act on it. If he even feels the same. If it won't just mess us up even further.”

Sam makes a neutral sound, and Steve finally looks at him. “I don't know. Ultimately, it's up to you, depends on if you want it to try making it happen or not. Do you?” Sam asks, looking back at him.

Steve stares at him for a few moments before his eyes shift ahead back to the path they're on (they've walked the perimeter one and a half times now). “I don't know, it's not _entirely up_ to me,” Steve finally says.

“True,” Sam replies, leaning towards him a little to catch Steve's eye, “But _do you want to?_ Is it what _you_ want to do?”

Steve looks back at him, blinking once before dropping his eyes to the ground.

“I want...” he starts, trailing off. It's a dangerous thought. He's not sure how to answer the question. For all of the freedoms he's regained and the ability to make choices, this is one he doesn't know how to make, or how to find the thread end of. There's so many factors to consider: Does Bucky feel the same? If he doesn't, will he? If he does, would he want to try it? Should they risk it? Part of Steve’s brain is still, _will_ always tell him not to. It's much quieter now, but he knows it won't ever really go away. And it's tempting, to listen to that voice and keep himself safe, but he's tired of being locked in a cage, even one of his own making.

They walk in silence for a while before Steve finally asks, “How is baseball? I haven't looked into it since I left.”

Sam smiles with a nod, allowing the subject change and knowing when not to push, and for that, Steve's grateful.

They talk about baseball, what little Sam knows of it (he doesn't really watch it) and the VA for the rest of their walk. They briefly talk about the pastries Sam's got memorized from the coffee shop, which leads to talk of restaurants that Steve can't really participate in. He doesn't think Tony's huge Thai food take-out orders really count as a ‘dining’ experience, and says as much, if vaguely and without mentioning Tony by name.

Sam just laughs and agrees that no, that really doesn't count, and, “Josh, you need to broaden your food horizons.”

Steve just smiles.

He heads back to the Tower after, keeping an eye out for any familiar faces he should be cautious of the whole way. Rumlow's team members showing up in the city just reminded them all of what they're really doing, of why they need to be careful, and just adds to the doubt building up in Steve’s mind against trying to pursue anything between him and Bucky, right now. Another part of him finds this reason enough _to_ try it, because they may not get another chance.

He feels conflicted.

He showers in his apartment after stripping out of his sweaty clothes, throwing on a pair of jeans and a dark blue, long sleeved shirt after. It's covering and comfortable, and it's starting to match and become appropriate for the change in weather. Fall is here.

Bucky lets himself into Steve's apartment not too long after, taking over his tv and couch while Steve rummages around in the fridge for ingredients to make lunch.

He has JARVIS play music quietly in the kitchen on shuffle while Bucky watches tv with the volume turned down low, even though he said he wanted to watch a recent baseball game. With their hearing, they can pick up the sounds even while the sound is down, but Steve doesn't think Bucky's _really_ watching the game, anyway. They're just enjoying each other's company, and being in such close quarters for most of their lives has made it near impossible for them to stay completely apart. He doesn't mind, doesn't think Bucky minds, either.

He's cutting tomatoes when the song ends and another starts, and his knife slows to a stop as the words start to sink in. He sees Bucky freeze out of the corner of his eye and his heartbeat picks up, nervous, body tensing.

“ _You only know what I want you to”_

“ _I know everything you don't want me to”_

\--

He's lazily paying attention to the game. The baseball of now isn't quite the same as it was in the forties, even though part of him was somehow still expecting it to be, and he does enjoy it, but not nearly as much.

He can hear Steve chopping things in the kitchen behind him, can smell the different ingredients ( _lettuce, green onions, tomatoes_ ), listens to the music playing softly - a little louder than the tv - and it's _relaxing_ , being like this. They're safe, for now, and he's not under the illusion that it will last, but for now it's true, they're safe, together, able to just exist without overwhelming worry and the need to survive looming over their heads like a dark cloud just about ready to open up and soak them through. Steve's capable of laughing and smiling and relaxing, and they're both here - somehow - taking up the same space and slowly putting each other and themselves back together. It's more than he thought they would ever get and he's content, content to just sit here on _Steve's couch_ in _Steve's apartment_ and watch a _baseball game_ while Steve _makes lunch_ with a _knife_ to _music_ instead of cutting open someone's throat to spill red. And Bucky likes it better like this, so much better, and with Steve wearing blue instead of being covered in red.

Bucky closes his eyes and just listens to the knife quietly reach the chopping block in rhythmic beats that match the music, smells the cut up vegetables' aromas start to blend together and fill the air. He leans his head back and lets himself sink into the couch, feel the soft texture and listen to the tv and the soft music. He feels at peace, like this, and the space inside his chest is warm, like a cat laying in a ray of sunlight.

The music shifts and he doesn't recognize it, but the words start and he hears Steve's knife slow to a stop on the cutting board, and then Bucky's stiffening against the back of the couch, eyes snapping open as the words hit him harder than a truck (because he _has_ been hit by the force of a truck and it didn't feel _anything_ like this).

“ _Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine”_

_“You think your dreams are the same as mine”_

“ _Ooo I don't love you, but I always will, ooo I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will, I always will”_

His breath catches in his throat and last night and this morning flash through his mind.

He moves slowly, rising from the couch and walking around it towards the kitchen, almost on autopilot.

The rhythmic chopping's still stopped, hasn't started back up.

He can see Steve's frozen at the counter, knife still in hand and body stiff, head bowed down towards the cutting board. Bucky stops ten feet away.

“ _I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back”_

“ _The less I give the more I get back”_

“Steve,” he says, voice a little scratchy, forced out of him, because something else has finally clicked into place, something huge and so small all at once.

Steve stiffens a little more at the sound of his name before Bucky hears him slowly put the knife down on the board, watches him just as slowly turn around to face him.

Bucky can see his eyes are wide, nervous, _scared_ , and his breath is controlled, quiet and shallow. Steve's looking at the floor, won't look at him.

Something inside Bucky's chest twinges and the heat's grown nearly unbearable.

He steps closer, stops a couple of feet away. “Steve,” he says quieter, softer with the emotions he's feeling and no longer forced.

Steve's eyes slowly drag themselves up to meet his, still a little wide and mouth in a tight, frightened line. He looks caught.

They stare at each other for a long moment.

“ _Ooo your hands can heal, your hands can bruise”_

“ _I don't have a choice, but I still choose you”_

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says quietly, moving a foot closer, and he hears Steve's breath hitch and his eyes widen a little further before his eyelids flutter shut, expression going a little helpless.

Bucky reaches up with his right hand, slides his fingers slowly up Steve's cheek until his palm is resting against it. Steve jolts slightly at the touch but doesn't move away, slowly opening his eyes and looking back at Bucky.

“ _Oooh I don't love you, but I always will, oooh I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will, ooh I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will. I don't love you, but I always will, I always will. I always will.”_

Bucky leans up as Steve leans down the scant inch, heartbeat rapid in his chest as their lips meet, gentle, so much more gentle than the rapid pulse he can hear echoing his own from Steve. As strong as the emotions are they keep the kiss soft, Bucky's hand on Steve's cheek gentle and the hand Steve lifts and grips the back of Bucky's neck with just as careful. The kiss feels the same, like the countless others they've had, but also different, _so_ _different_.

He can smell the vegetables on Steve's skin, in the air of the kitchen, can hear both of their heartbeats calming and the music playing overhead. He can feel the shiny, smooth, cool floor beneath both of their bare feet, hyperaware of everything but somehow barely noticing any of it, focused instead on each point of contact he has with Steve.

He presses up a little further and Steve presses down, and they're only an inch or two off from being the same height so it's not hard to slot themselves closer together, close the scarce distance between them. It feels like the easiest, most frightening thing he's ever done, even though he's done it with Steve many times now. It feels different this time, _more,_ somehow.

Bucky's metal fingers find their way to Steve's waist and Steve's other fingers mirror his own. They break the kiss, gently, almost carefully after a few moments. Bucky slides the hand on Steve's cheek around and back, gripping the back of Steve's neck gently in return as they bring their foreheads together, both of their eyes still closed.

“I always will,” Steve says in a near whisper with the song playing overhead, warm breath ghosting across Bucky's mouth. Bucky opens his eyes to find Steve doing the same, blue-gray meeting cloudy blue.

Bucky swallows quietly before pressing in a little closer, Steve tightening his grip a little at the motion and Bucky doing the same.

“You will, huh?” Bucky asks in an almost whisper, eyes locked on Steve.

Steve's silent for a moment as he stares back before a slow smile curves across his face, nodding just the slightest bit against Bucky's forehead. “I will,” Steve replies just as quietly. Bucky swallows again.

“When did you know?” Bucky asks after a few moments, referring to the the tension from this morning, to their own revelations.

“Last night, when you looked up at me from the couch,” Steve whispers now, the music lowered to a soft, quiet sound, courtesy of JARVIS. Neither of them notice.

Bucky lets out a breath near a huff of a laugh, smile finding its way onto his lips, too. He butts his forehead gently into Steve's. “Punk,” he whispers.

“Jerk,” Steve whispers back, smile widening a little.

Steve starts rocking them a little in a barely there dance, and Bucky's smile widens further. They just stare at each other for a while, dancing in place to their own beat instead of the music playing low from overhead.

Bucky's expression turns serious after a while, slowing them to a stop. “This is dangerous, Steve,” he says quietly.

Steve's expression sobers as well. “I know,” he replies, just as quiet, “But I can't help it, Buck.” Steve leans forward, bringing his mouth down to Bucky's ear to say in an almost whisper against his hair, “ _James_.”

Bucky shivers a bit at it, Steve's hand letting go of the back of his neck to slide down his spine. Bucky grips Steve a little tighter. “That's not fair, _Steven,_ ” Bucky says quietly, frowning at Steve when he pulls back enough for Bucky to see his face.

“They say 'all's fair in love and war,'” Steve replies teasingly, voice still quiet.

“Appropriate,” Bucky says, quietly sarcastic, smirk quirking up the side of his mouth.

Steve huffs out a quiet breath, warm against Bucky's face. His expression turns serious again soon after and Bucky's follows suit.

“Do you want to?” Steve asks, still quiet.

Bucky stares at him for a long while before closing his eyes for a moment, opening them back up to look back at Steve. “Do _you_ want to?” he asks, almost a whisper.

Steve makes a slight face. “ _Bucky_ ,” he says quietly, almost chiding.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly before his expression turns serious again. “I want what you want. I don't care if we're hunted, or if we have to fight, this is war, it's _always_ war, and I'm tired of... _not_ wanting, of waiting for chances for things we want when we might not be around long enough to get them. And I want this. With you.”

Steve's expression softens before he nods once, still staring at Bucky. “I want this, too, Buck. With you,” he replies, just as quiet.

“Then let's take it,” Bucky says, smirking briefly before it turns into a smile at seeing one stretch wide across Steve's face.

They lean in and kiss again, Bucky sliding his hand down to wind his arms quick around Steve's waist and lift him up, spinning him around while Steve laughs against his mouth, hands leaping up to Bucky's shoulders.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve chides again, but he's grinning.

Bucky grins back, laughing a little before setting Steve down. He leans in and kisses Steve quick before stepping back a little. His eyebrows draw together in thought before his expression clears, Steve watching him curiously.

“So _that's_ what that was about,” Bucky says.

Steve's face scrunches up slightly in confusion. “That's what _what_ was about?” Steve asks.

Bucky points at Steve before pointing at himself, kissing the air quick in a morning peck and making sure to make the kissy sound effects. Steve's face goes a shade of red so it's more than worth it.

“That, from this morning,” Bucky answers, eyebrows raised and a smirk finding its way onto his lips.

Steve looks up to the ceiling, face red, before quickly turning back around to finish cutting up the tomato.

“Your hair smells like lettuce, onions, and tomatoes now,” Steve says, retaliating.

Bucky makes a face at the back of Steve's head before reaching around to pull some of his hair close to his face, taking a sniff. His face scrunches up when he gets a whiff of the vegetables Steve had been cutting and he moves, darts in quick to flick the tip of Steve's ear with his metal fingers, careful to make sure the knife has just met the cutting board when he does it so Steve doesn't accidentally end up cutting himself in his surprise.

Steve _squawks_ , knife clattering down to the cutting board as Bucky takes off running with a laugh while Steve turns and chases after him.

He runs down the hall, skidding a little and ungracefully flailing his arms for balance when he takes a sharp turn, just barely dodging Steve's grab for him.

The apartment fills with the sound of their laughter.

JARVIS changes the song.

\--

“Well you've got a big smile on your face this fine, freezing morning,” Sam says cheerfully the next morning.

Steve grins and Sam returns it. 

“Went well, huh?” Sam asks.

“Yup,” Steve replies, the two of them taking their usual walk around the park after their run.

“Glad to hear it,” Sam says.

A ball comes flying in their direction from the left and Steve turns quick on reflex, reaching out and catching it before it hits Sam in the side of the face.

Sam jumps, leaning back, wide eyes darting between the ball and Steve, then to the sound of a little girl's voice yelling, “ _Hey! Sorry! Can I have my ball?_ ”

Steve tosses the ball back to the approaching girl, making sure to use just enough strength to get it to her without her having to get too close _and_ not break her, when Sam says, “Sure!”

The girl catches it before taking off back towards the inner part of the park, red scarf bobbing in the air behind her.

“Be careful!” Sam yells after her before turning back to look at Steve, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Nice reflexes,” he says.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Steve says a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

It's cold this morning, colder than usual, and it's starting to get to his leg a little. Steve decides to bare it for a little longer, could ignore it completely if he wanted, and he gives it a little shake before setting his foot back down on the ground. Sam notices.

“Your...leg. It bothering you?” Sam asks, surprise in his tone and expression, but not the kind that makes Steve want to recoil. He doesn't really have that reaction around Sam, which is partially why Steve likes being around him so much.

He hasn't told Sam about his leg yet, never even thought to, which surprises him. He's grown used to it.

“Yeah. It's...” Steve trails off, bending down to tap his knuckles on the metal under his pants just above the knee, straightening up to look back at Sam after he does.

Sam gives a nod, eyes going back up from Steve's knee to his face, gesturing towards the nearest park entrance-exit. “You can go ahead and take off, if you want, unless you want to go for some coffee,” Sam offers with a smile.

Steve thinks it over for a few moments before he nods. “Coffee would be nice. Maybe I'll try some of that Pumpkin Bread you keep talking about,” he jokes, smiling a little.

Sam returns it before they head off, leaving the park and heading to the coffee shop. “It's amazing, you're gonna love it,” Sam says as they hit the sidewalk.

\--

“Alright,” Steve concedes after taking a bite, “The Pumpkin Bread _is_ kind of amazing.” He swallows the bite down with some of his coffee, taking another bite soon after.

“I _told_ you,” Sam says triumphantly, taking a bite out of his own.

Steve makes an agreeing noise in the back of his throat, eyes glancing up at the sound of the shop door opening. He freezes at the sight of the two just walking in before shifting slightly, subtly rearranging his body to make himself look more comfortable, a little more _normal,_ and even less likely to stand out _._ He shifts his attention back to Sam, who's looking out the window while he takes a sip of his coffee.

“You should give their croissants a try,” Sam says, looking back at him before taking another bite.

Steve makes another, quiet, agreeing sound, taking another bite of his own bread and making sure to chew it slowly, so he doesn't have to talk. He's not sure if the two agent's from Rumlow's team that just walked in will recognize his voice, doesn't imagine Hydra actually has many audio recordings of him talking. Screaming, maybe, but _talking_? The chances are low, but he still can't risk it.

He takes a subtle glance towards the counter, catches them ordering coffee before darting his eyes back to his bread, swallowing after a slow minute.

He keeps his head angled down towards his food, but not low enough to make it seem like he's avoiding eye contact and draw attention. He takes another sip of his coffee and bite of his bread, glancing up at Sam, who seems to have picked up that Steve doesn't want to talk at the moment. He gives Steve a loose shrug before looking back out the window at the city and the people walking by the large window to their side.

Steve keeps an eye on the two agents, slowly making his way through his Pumpkin Bread as they wait to get their coffee. He times it just right so that he takes his second to last bite when they get their drinks, lets their eyes rove right over him as they turn back to the door, taking his last bite as they start to leave.

He takes one last sip of his coffee before looking over to Sam. “I should probably be going. I promised I'd meet with Nat today for lunch,” Steve says, gathering the napkin from the bread off of the table. He uses her nickname to keep from using her full name because she's _known_ now, more publicly. It's just a precaution, but he's gotten by this long by living by it.

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Did I spoil your meal?” he asks, smirking slightly.

“Nah,” Steve says with a smirk of his own, “I eat big, it'll be fine. Besides, I wanted to try this, so thank you.”

Sam gives a nod as Steve slides out of his side of the booth, taking the last of his coffee with him.

“No problem,” Sam says as the two agents exit the coffee shop, “See you tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, giving a small salute while holding his coffee container and heading for the door. He drops the napkin and container in the trash before pushing the door open, smile sliding off of his face as he scans the sidewalk.

He spots them and turns left to follow, sliding his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He runs through a dozen possible scenarios of what to do with them, something building in his chest with each step.

Scenario One: Capture both. Take them to Avengers Tower for interrogation.

Scenario Two: Capture one. Take them to Avengers Tower for interrogation.

Scenario Three: Capture both. Interrogate them himself and don't take them to Avengers Tower.

Scenario Four: Capture one. Interrogate them himself outside and don't take them to Avengers Tower.

He sees security cameras turning to follow him from the top corners of buildings.

Scenario Five: Kill both.

He ignores them.

Scenario Six: Capture both and call in backup.

Scenario Seven-

They take a turn down an alley and Steve slows his steps, heartbeat quickly pounding in his ears. He turns into the alley at a casually slow pace, eyes scanning the space.

They're gone.

He keeps walking.

 _They'll show_.

His eyes dart up when he's halfway down the alley, breathing slowed so his ears pick up the sound of careful steps on metal from above.

One of the agents drops from the fire escape above him and Steve dodges to the right just before they reach him, spinning around to kick the woman in the torso with his right leg. He hears a few ribs and part of her sternum crack with the force of it as she collides with the brick wall of the building on the left side of the alley. The other moves in from behind him, having hidden in one of the dumpsters a little ways down the alley towards where he entered, swinging an electrically charged baton and hitting him in the side mid-turn.

Steve grits his teeth against a yell and grabs the baton with his left hand, finishing his turn and moving his right to grab the agent's wrist, twisting the baton up and into the man's neck. He darts his right hand up off of the man's wrist and covers the agent's mouth with it, shoving him back into the right side of the alley and muffling his scream before the man loses consciousness.

Steve lets the man drop to the ground, keeping hold of the baton as he turns back to the woman slouched against the other wall, both agents blocked from view at the end of the alley by dumpsters lined sporadically against the buildings.

“Where is Rumlow,” Steve demands, eyes cold and voice hard.

The agent spits out blood towards his feet before smirking up at him. “Hail Hydra,” she says, opening her mouth as her tongue goes for the fake tooth towards the middle back of her teeth.

Steve's already darting in before the words are fully out of her mouth, shoving the end of the baton between her parted lips and forcing her tongue down. Her eyes go wide for a moment before she starts to struggle and he pins her down, straddling her legs with his own and quickly breaking one arm before grabbing the other in a hard grip, her yell muffled by the baton in her mouth.

She glares up at him after a moment, breathing hard. He stares back down at her, eyes blank.

“Oh,” he says tonelessly after a moment, part of his brain almost blank. Recognition flickers in his eyes briefly at what he sees in her stare. “You think I'm going to kill you, or take you back to my new comrades with my newly returned humanity.”

The Soldier leans down over her, face getting close to hers as she struggles to move back, trapped between him and the brick wall. “I'm going to tell you a secret,” he says, then drops his voice to an almost whisper, staring into her wide, fear filling eyes, “ _I'm still not completely human_.”

He twists her wrist slowly, breaking it after a slow, torturous turn. Her yell is muffled again and he watches her blink back the tears building in her eyes from the pain.

“ _Pain is weakness_ ,” he says in a monotone in Russian, ripping the baton out of her mouth while his other hand darts up to her forehead, roughly angling her head back and shoving it against the brick while he drops the baton and darts his now free hand into her mouth, grabbing the fake molar with his fingers and yanking it out.

She opens her mouth to try and take advantage of it to scream, to draw the attention of the few people walking past the end of the alley, but he drops the hand on her forehead over her mouth, covering it and muffling the attempt just as she makes it.

“ _Where is Rumlow_ ,” he says in Russian, part of his brain registering that she might not know Russian, but also knowing that she already knows what he wants.

She takes a deep breath through her nose before letting it out. She's stealing herself.

The Soldier stares at her for a long moment before shifting, pressing the shin of his right, metal leg over the top of hers. Her eyes widen again when she feels what it’s made of, that it isn't flesh and bone, that it’s going to _hurt_.

“ _Where is Rumlow_ ,” he says again, slowly pressing down when she doesn't answer.

He watches almost unfeelingly as she tries to keep her eyes open the further he presses down against her leg, trapping it between the metal of his own and the dirty cement. Her eyes are half open with the strain and one squeezes shut when he hears her Tibia start to crack.

The Soldier feels her lips form something other than a yell behind his hand, so he lifts it up, keeping the pressure on her leg.

“If I tell you, you won't let me go,” she says, “All I ask for is a quick death.”

He stares at her for a moment before giving a nod. She lets out a shaky breath, staring up at him.

“MetLife bank vault. 200 Park Avenue. Midtown Manhattan.”

The Soldier's eyes widen slightly before he schools his expression, reaching up with both hands to wrap one arm around the back of her neck to grip her jaw from that side, the other grabbing her head. He twists quick and sharp, breaking her neck, eyes staying on hers the whole time. A larger part of him now once again respects life, no matter whose it is.

He uncoils and rises slowly, gracefully, turning to continue heading down the alley.

“Steve,” a voice calls out, stopping him, “Where are you going.”

“ _MetLife bank vault. 200 Park Avenue, Midtown Manhattan_ ,” he replies evenly in Russian before taking a few more steps.

“ _I can't let you do that_ ,” the woman says calmly in Russian as well, stopping his tracks.

“ _They've been there. The whole time_ ,” he says, turning slightly towards her but not looking at her, “ _Right there. In the bank in front of Avengers Tower. Right under us, like in S.H.I.E.L.D._ ”

He's silent for a moment. She waits him out, but she waits out everyone. He knows this.

“ _He took my mind, Natalia. He made me hurt Bucky_ ,” Steve says quietly, finally looking at her over his shoulder, eyes still cold but not entirely inhuman, not anymore.

“I still can't let you,” she replies after a few moments in English, staring him down.

“I'm going after him,” he says back in English, too, steel in his voice.

She raises a gun with the speed of a viper and he dodges the first two shots, but the third hits and he slows, the fourth makes him drop to his knees before hitting the ground.

He hears her walk over, footsteps slow and measured, knows the gun is still trained on him as her black, heeled boots come into his blurry line of vision, blocking his view of grey cement and old, red brick.

“I can't let you,” she says again softly, and it's the last thing he hears before the drugs take effect and his vision goes black.


	13. This is Who I Really Am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! I had a thought. Maybe I'll start linking the songs some of these titles are coming from, because they're usually relevant in some way.
> 
> For this chapter it's; "The Kill" by 30 Seconds To Mars - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zMmQSEaS-w0
> 
> Warnings! For lots of violence and tor...ture? Um. Some torture.

When he starts to wake, everything's fuzzy around the edges and there's vague sounds coming from somewhere a little ways away, muddled and hard to focus on. He keeps his eyes closed and doesn't move, keeps his breathing deep and even while he takes stock of himself and what little he can figure out about his surroundings. It's automatic at this point, a precaution, ingrained in him over seventy years.

His mind is hazy, slow to start, and he has enough conscious thought to worry and be alerted that he's been affected by something, but he waits it out.

He's lying on something soft, on his stomach with his face half pressed into it. It's comfortable. He doesn't trust it. It smells familiar though...and _that_ he does trust.

He can make out the sounds now, they're becoming clearer. It's voices, arguing.

“...-idn't you notify me? I should've been the one to go.” Male, agitated, voice rising.

“JARVIS notified me because you wouldn't have been able to react without bias.” Female, calm. “Someone needed to go who wouldn't possibly end up in the same position he did, which is why I went.”

“And then you, what, took matters into your own hands and decided to _drug_ him with some experimental drug that _Banner_ made to have used on _himself?_ ” the male voice half yells, obviously angry. Steve's starting to recognize it, it sounds familiar.

“I had no choice, James. You are emotionally compromised and Stark would draw too much attention, Thor as well, not to mention Bruce,” the female replies steadily, “Steve would have overpowered me otherwise and I needed to bring him back quickly, on top of deal with the two Hydra agents. I didn't have a whole lot of time to think of an alternative method.”

James...

Steve’s eyes snap open, or, well, as quickly as they can when he's still not even up to half way functional. He remembers the morning cold, his leg, talking with Sam, the _coffee shop_ , the _agents_ , _the_ _alley._

Natasha.

The bank.

He groans quietly as he shifts, lets himself make sound while struggling to push himself up.

The voices all stop at once at the sound and then he hears a pair of all too familiar footsteps approaching.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, hands gripping his shoulder and arm and helping to steady him as he tries to sit up on the soft cushion.

Steve blinks slowly a few times, his vision blurry but Bucky's face close to his, slowly swimming into focus.

“Say something, _anything_ ,” Bucky says. Steve can hear the urgency in his voice.

Banner's experimental drug. Right.

“' _Anything_ ,'” Steve says as sarcastically as he can manage, voice scratchy and almost like it's full of glass. His mouth is dry as an Arizona desert, too.

Bucky's expression goes from urgent and worried to relieved and then vaguely unimpressed at Steve's reply choice, hand coming up from his grip on Steve's arm to settle itself on Steve's cheek. Bucky leans up and in and presses his lips to Steve's forehead for a moment. Steve closes his eyes a little at the touch. It quiets the thing inside of him.

“ _Thank **fuck**_ ,” Bucky says quietly and emphatically, looking back up at Steve from where he's crouched on the floor at the side of the-

Oh. He's on _Bucky's_ _bed_.

“Bucky-” Steve starts, fog in his head starting to clear.

“I know. I saw the footage. Saw you go a little _Terminator_ there,” Bucky half jokes, but his eyes are completely serious.

Steve's eyebrows draw together as he looks down at him, hands making fists at his sides in the sheets. “ _They've been across the street the whole time_ ,” he says lowly, gritting his teeth, “ _Rumlow's_ been across the street the whole time.”

Bucky's expression hardens as he stands up, keeping a hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve follows his movements with his eyes.

“You want to go after them,” Bucky says more than asks; it's not a question. Steve can see Bucky's already made his own decision on the matter, as well.

“He took my _mind_ , Buck. He made me hurt you,” Steve says, still looking up at him. The room's quiet. Part of his mind tracks the locations of the others, but the rest is focused on himself, on _Bucky_. “This is more personal,” Steve finishes quietly.

Bucky's lips thin out before he half turns towards where the others are gathered by the bedroom door. It's just Tony, Natasha, and Clint this time. Thor and Bruce aren't in the room.

“We're going,” Bucky says, voice hard.

“ _James_ -” Natasha starts, but Bucky cuts her off.

“ _We're going_ , Natalia. You know we have to,” he says, standing his ground.

Natasha schools her expression before looking at Tony. Tony raises his hands, looking back at her before looking to Bucky and Steve. “Hey, I know when a crazy, radical group went after someone I cared about? Yeah, no, I get it,” Tony says, shifting slightly.

Natasha looks back to Bucky, glancing at Steve briefly then back to Bucky again. “I could just tranquilize you both,” she says, voice even and calm.

Steve can see her hand resting near her thigh holster.

His shield is still in his apartment, but he knows Bucky's prepared to move if they have to. This set up the two of them and the Avengers have playing _house_ was never meant to last. It _can't_. Even if a large part of him was hoping it would. In the end, this will always be the result. He and Bucky will have to do something that they won't agree with and the Avengers will eventually try to stop them, and they'll have to fight.

Bucky smirks a little; it looks dangerous. “Yeah, you could, but I know you won't,” he says confidently, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. He'll keep them for another time.

“And why not?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Because we're not just going to rush in there without a plan,” Bucky replies, looking back to Steve, who looks back up at him, “Not like that. We have to be more careful,” Bucky says to _him_ specifically.

Steve stares up at him for a few moments before nodding slightly. He knows it wasn't smart, what he did in the alley, and part of him still hates what happened, but he wasn't exactly thinking of putting plans together at the time, or being merciful. He wasn't actually thinking much at all. Steve disconnected in the moment, the more normal side of him couldn't process _what_ he needed to do or _how_ to do it, so The Soldier side of him took over.

All he knew was that he just wanted to tear Rumlow _apart_ , preferably messily and with his bare hands.

Bucky's expression shifts minutely as they stare at each other. Steve knows he gets it, even if the others don't.

“Right, well,” Tony interrupts, drawing all of their attentions back to him, “Shall we look up blueprints for the Hydra girl scouts set up across the street?”

Clint snorts. “Sure, sounds like fun. I'll make the popcorn, and later we can even buy some of their cookies, see if when we eat one, two more just appear,” Clint replies sarcastically.

–

Clint does make popcorn, but only he and Tony end up eating it while Tony flings up and dismisses hologram after hologram with wild hand and arm gestures while turning in place. It vaguely reminds Bucky of a conductor he once saw in a Russian orchestra, something frenetic and wild and full of passion in the man's movements. Bucky hadn't been able to understand that at the time, the passion, the _feeling_ , not really. He couldn't feel anything like that memorable conductor, and what he was able to feel from the swell of instruments in the grandiose hall made little to no sense to him at the time. He can appreciate it now, think of it in awe and understand what he feels when he listens to opera and classical now that he has a sense of self. He feels regret for having had been made to kill that conductor, like so many of his various other “missions” and “targets.” Bucky thinks he would have liked to see the man conduct again now that he can understand, can _feel_.

Bucky glances at Steve who's standing to his left, watches him focus almost entirely on the maps, diagrams, blueprints, and security footage Tony brings up. Tony's already connected the missing footage of Rumlow's agents back to the bank, it wasn't hard to do when you knew exactly what to look for. He's worried about Steve a little, though. Last night had been a change, a shift for and between them, something significant and important slotting together. If anyone else had watched the footage in the alley and looked at Steve after, they probably wouldn't have been able to see how shaken he really was about it, not as well as Bucky can. Steve had reverted, but Bucky knew it had been more out of a sense of self defense than purposeful. Steve's mind had been trying to protect itself.

Both him _and_ Steve have become more and more like who they used to be, before the fall. Steve opens up to others more, he laughs, he smiles, he cooks them meals and he dances when Bucky can get him to. And Bucky watches baseball on Steve's tv and lounges on Steve's couch like they're still sharing an apartment, and he gets the feeling that could happen soon now that they...well. But running into specific Hydra agents, who are so tightly tied to who they became, connected to the monsters they were and have _used_ Steve, by association...Steve tried to process what he might need to do, and couldn't. Steve and The Soldier, for all that they are the same, _are_ completely different.

Bucky can handle the balance better between who he was before the fall, who he was after the fall, and who he's becoming now. He knows _Steve_ is too _different_ from The Soldier to use that part of himself as well as Bucky does, at least not this soon. Maybe, with a little more time and adjustment - if they had the time for it - he would be better with it like Bucky is, but Steve's being forced into it, forced to adapt and adjust to their circumstances, and pushing it won't end well. It never has.

They probably could have had more time to prepare if Steve hadn't acted so soon, but Bucky knows _he_ would have done the same thing if he had seen the agents just walk into the same coffee shop he was in. Well, maybe not _exactly_ the same thing, but it would have been very hard to stay calm. He doesn't blame Steve for doing what he did or reacting how he did, but it does put more pressure on them both.

Bucky looks back to the diagrams, moving his hand over slightly to grip Steve's. They're standing close, so it's not a stretch to touch and it won't draw attention, at least none from Stark which is all that really matters. Of all of them, he's the most likely to publicly make something of it, and Steve doesn't need that right now.

He can see Steve's head turn a little towards him out of the corner of his eye and feels Steve grip his hand back after a moment. Bucky turns his own head a little to look back at Steve in return when he does. Tony's going on and on about technicalities in the blueprints, but they're unnecessary and Bucky ignores him for the moment, leaning in closer to talk quietly to Steve.

“I know,” Bucky near whispers, seeing the worry in Steve's eyes, “It'll be fine. I'm coming with you. I won't let you lock yourself up in that stubborn head of yours again, and I'll pull you out if you slip too deep down.”

Steve swallows slightly before leaning his head closer to Bucky's in return, gripping Bucky's hand a little tighter. Steve's face goes slightly pinched.

“I know, but I'm still...” Steve starts at the same, quiet level before dropping his voice to a barely there whisper that Bucky has to use his enhanced hearing to pick up, “I'm still scared, Buck. It was like my mind just cut out, went blank. Not like with the tuning fork, but...I'm scared I won't be able to snap out of it next time. I don't want to be _just **that**_ again, not again. It's the thing I'm scared of the most, that I'll slip away into my own mind and do something I can't stop, like hurt you, _again_.”

Bucky gives Steve's hand a comforting squeeze, leaning a little closer to rest his forehead against the side of Steve's for a moment before he butts it gently, looking back into his eyes. He's going to make Rumlow pay for making Steve feel that way, putting that fear in his life, and he's going to take as much time as he can doing it.

“I'll be with you,” Bucky says again after a moment, also dropped to a whisper with his eyes determined, “I'll drag you back kicking and screaming if I have to. And if worst comes to worst...” Bucky trails off, and it's terrifying and hard to think about, but if it's for Steve it's not quite so bad. It's worth it. He can give this up for Steve, he can give up _everything_ for Steve, he has before, “Worst comes to worst, you fall, I fall,” Bucky finishes resolutely, decision made over eighty years ago.

He almost expects Steve to argue, to say something self sacrificing, and Steve looks like he's about to - eyes widening - but his mouth opens and nothing comes out, and Bucky watches it close again.

“You know I don't want you to have to do that, Buck,” Steve whispers, expression urgent, concerned, “I don't want you to give up everything you've gotten back just for _me._ Just because _I_ couldn't handle it.”

Bucky shrugs slightly, smirk curving up his lips, “Who said it's me ' _having_ ' to?” Steve opens his mouth again, expression firm, but Bucky cuts him off, “Steve, that's just the way it's going to be. The way it's always been. I won't let you be locked up alone like that, won't let you suffer by yourself if we both get caught. Just like that time you took the fall for me when I got caught taking an orange from Old Man River up the street and you got grounded. I still came to see you, snuck in through your window near every night,” Bucky says, “Where you go, I go, mentally or physically, just like then and just like now, just like the last seventy years. 'Till the end of the line, remember?” Bucky finishes. “God, I make it sound like we're married,” he jokes a moment later, but he means it. It's not healthy, but neither of them really are. Most of what they have is a tangled up mess, even if at its core it's as pure and the same as it's ever been, and he won't leave Steve to hang himself. Won't abandon him now, not ever.

Steve's expression softens before going serious again, but it's different this time.

“I would,” Steve says after a moment of staring at him, eyes resolute.

“I don't-” Bucky starts, confused, cutting himself off as his eyes widen and he gets it. “...You _would_?” he asks, surprise, shock, and incredulity layered in his voice, expression, and no small amount of awe, warmth swelling in his chest.

Steve nods a little, expression softening again as he shifts a little closer to Bucky. “ _I would_. People can do that now, you know, Buck,” Steve says softly and still so quiet, words for Bucky's ears only.

Bucky's mouth presses into a firm line before he lets out an almost silent breath, glancing around the room. Natasha's looking at him and they make eye contact, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead before she gives a barely there smile and a slight inclination of her head, eyes going back to the holograms after.

That's the clearest sign of approval he knows she's ever going to give. She's been reading their lips, he's not sure for how long, but long enough to catch _that_.

Bucky looks back to Steve, a warm smile slowly edging up his lips. “I would, too,” he says just as quietly, something fragile and warm in his voice. He'd thought of marriage once, a long time ago, before the war. He thought he'd marry a beautiful, fiery dame and settle down with a couple of kids and a dog, like most men thought they would back then. And Steve was always there, living next door with his own wife ( _and Peggy solidified those thoughts_ ) and kids and that was how their lives would be, his own feelings for Steve left as they were.

But that didn't happen, and here they are, stuck together by circumstance and choice and connected by too much to voice, and there are no dames, no kids, no house. Just them. Always just them.

Steve's smile is a soft, warm yet bright thing when it comes, and it warms Bucky inside even more, like looking at and soaking in the sun. They may not have the lives he and Steve dreamed up, but they're here, somehow, in the future, and they're together. That, at least, hasn't changed in everything.

They stare at each other for a few long moments before Bucky finally says, “Can you imagine those nuns that used to be down the block? The fits they'd have if they heard all this.” He cracks a grin as Steve blinks, listens to Steve's quiet huff of breath after, the laugh rumbling in Steve's chest. It makes Bucky feel even warmer and like he might just burn up with it and be fine with that. He's sure he's smiling like a sap, too, but he can't help it. This is war, and you have to take whatever moments you can get, and that's exactly what he's going to do.

“Am I boring you two lovebirds?” Tony asks sarcastically a few moments later, jarring them both out of the moment.

Bucky keeps his eyes on Steve's while he flips Tony off with his right hand, metal fingers shifting to twine with Steve's flesh ones.

He hears Clint snort and can practically feel Natasha rolling her eyes as hard as she can manage, but Steve's smiling and his eyes are on him, so it's worth it.

–

“Alright,” Tony says after a few moments, pulling together the most vital holograms and spinning them around to face the group, “The bank vault is located down the hall behind the door past the counter where it contains two sets of gated doors _past_ the vault's _main_ door. Which, by the way, is one of the most ridiculously large doors I have ever seen. Classic turn wheel lock and everything. I want one.” Tony pulls out the holographic schematic of the vault's main door and spins it for a moment with a finger before letting the hologram snap back into place with the rest of the layout. “Since this is Hydra, we have to expect the whole building to be under their control, and that's a lot of man and firepower to have to deal with,” Tony finishes.

“We could try pulling the fire alarm, see how many scatter and how many _are_ actually Hydra agents,” Clint suggests, crossing his arms, popcorn long gone, “And hopefully it's not the _whole_ damn building.”

“That would be nice,” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow, “but I'm not betting on the whole place _not_ being Hydra.”

“We can go in at night,” Steve says, voice calm, “The only people remaining in the building should be Hydra agents and late night workers.”

Clint gives a nod and Bucky follows suit. That idea is more sound, moving under the cover of night will hide them better, and Bucky doesn't want Steve to have to kill more people than he already has to.

“Thirty floors,” Natasha says quietly, expression thoughtful as she eyes the holographic diagrams and schematics hovering in front of them in the middle of the room, “We each take six floors, assuming the entire building is full. But it's still too much, we need a more efficient way of clearing them,” she finishes resolutely, eyes glancing to the others.

“And we're not counting on Banner and Thor coming, I'm guessing,” Bucky says more than asks, and Tony sighs.

“No,” Tony answers a little forlornly, “Thor went back to England and Bruce said he had something he needed to take care of somewhere on the _other side of the world_ , like he _usually_ does.”

It may actually be for the best, though. Thor and Banner are powerful, and while they would make for great distractions and fire power, too much might be, well, _too much_. The plan may work better if they're less obvious, and as soon as things get _any amount_ of obvious then there's going to be more news reporters, journalists, and tv crews on the scene than they can all avoid. Steve and Bucky will be outed in less time than it takes to make the popcorn Clint and Tony had earlier. Tony does not want to put that kind of strain on Pepper, because let's face it, she _would_ be the one dealing with the publicity and information fallout.

Bucky lets out a sigh, and Tony can tell he knows it's not ideal, but Tony can also tell him and Steve have both realized the same thing he did. Tony also notices that their hands are locked together like school kids and secretly thinks it's adorable. He's having JARVIS save the footage. He plans on sending it to Coulson for Christmas. It's better than trying to think of something else as a present and he _knows_ Pepper's going to make him send the man _something_. She likes him too much, Tony thinks, they get along frighteningly well.

“So,” Tony starts again, looking around the room before drawing his hands up again, zooming in on the building's layout, “Vault's on the first floor. I'm guessing you two are wanting to take that one,” Tony says, nodding to Bucky and Steve, the former of which just nods slightly in return while Steve says and does nothing more than curl his free hand into a fist. Which is concerning, but they don't have time to address it.

“But, the easiest way to get into the building itself with the least amount of detection is to go through the ceiling's air shaft. It goes all the way down the center of the building and connects to every level. You two can take the lower ten floors,” Tony says, gesturing to Bucky and Steve again. “But whoever gets there first gets there first,” Tony continues, “Not that I'm trying to instigate a race, but I'm totally trying to instigate a race,” he grins, “First person to take out the most Hydra agents gets to fight Rumlow.”

Bucky and Steve's expressions harden while Clint rolls his eyes, and Tony claps his hands once, pulling up and zooming in on the ceiling air shaft's layout.

“Clint gets the top five floors, because we all know high places are his comfort zone,” Tony says, looking at Clint with a teasing grin. Clint just looks right back at him with a smirk quirking up one corner of his mouth and his arms crossed. He's not even going to deny it.

“I'll take the five floors below that and Natasha will take the five below me,” Tony continues, looking up and between Bucky and Steve, “You two argue it out on who gets the next five and the five containing the first floor. I'm not getting in the way of that,” Tony says, raising his hands in mock surrender.

Bucky and Steve share a look before raising their free hands and starting a game of rock, paper, scissors, their other hands still entwined. Coulson is going to _love_ this footage.

“Alright,” Tony says, once that's decided, “Everyone clear?”

“Wait,” Bucky starts, looking none too pleased about having lost the round of rock, paper, scissors, “The tuning fork Rumlow used on Steve. We never got the chance to remove the sleeper programming from Steve’s mind.”

Steve's lips thin at the mention of it and Tony takes a moment to think before looking over at Natasha. “That Xavier guy,” Tony says, “I'm sure you know the one. Think you could get him here?”

Natasha's eyebrows rise before her expression goes slightly thoughtful, giving a nod after a few moments. “Yes, I could,” she says.

Tony nods back before clearing the holograms with one sweep of his arm. “Good. Now, I do have a work in progress arsenal that I think you're all going to like,” he says, moving to exit the room and lead the way as the others follow, “Natasha, you go get Xavier, after. We'll leave for the bank as soon as it's dark.” Steve was miraculously only out for about an hour on the experimental drug, which gives them plenty of time until nightfall.

Steve makes a stop at his apartment for his shield and then Tony's right. They do like the arsenal.

“ _This_ is small?” Bucky asks once they get to the armory, eyeing the weaponry Tony's been laying out.

Tony just gives him a look, setting down the last gadget. “I made forty-two Iron Man suits that I blew up last Christmas during that whole Mandarin thing,” he says, waving a hand, “Yeah, this is small.”

Barnes just looks to Rogers who shrugs, eyes going back to the display.

Natasha picks out a few hightech, arc energy compressed pistols that Tony swears he didn't design just for her. He'd actually made them for Pepper, who in turn had insisted he give them to Natasha because she could “handle herself just fine, Tony, Extremis and all.” Those two also got along frighteningly well, and in multiple languages that Tony doesn't know. He swears they're conspiring against him in Latin.

Clint picks up an array of pulse ray arrow tips that do a number of things, mostly EMP bursts, blinding light flashes, and small repulsor blasts (small as in not as strong as the ones on Tony's suit, but a quarter of the power is still more than enough) and a couple of short range firearms. He looks pleased.

Barnes takes a high powered assault rifle that's been modified to fire repulsor and electronic bursts, and a knife that's been altered to emit an electric charge like Natasha's Black Widow Bites. He's got a glint in his eye that reminds Tony of a kid at Christmas, but a smirk on his face that looks dangerous and old and full of everything he's planning on doing to the Hydra agents when he gets into the building. Tony decides to let his eyes slide off of Bucky and move on to Steve.

Steve's staring at the array with a mixed look, partly like he doesn't want to use any of it and partly like he has to because it's necessary. Tony thinks he might get it - Steve's mixed feelings on the matter - at least somewhat. He saw the footage, too, and while it made him more than a little uncomfortable watching The Soldier torture someone, he knows a blocking tactic when he sees one, is all too familiar with them in his own way if not in quite the same way as what Steve did.

Steve didn't know how to react to the situation when the time called for it, torn between two sides of himself and what to do about it, so the more human side of his mind shut down to protect itself from the possible trauma and overwhelming stress, and he reverted. He fell back on an old, reliable way of doing things that's always served him well with little to no failures in the past. It has to have shaken him, more than anyone but maybe Barnes can see or know, but Steve's masking it well, and Tony has to give the man props for that. He has a mission, a goal, so he's holding himself together. It's not a permanent fix, it never is, but it _will_ do _for_ _now_.

Steve ends up taking three knives similar to Bucky's and a regular pistol, along with his shield.

Neither Steve nor Bucky are taking much (if you don't count the assault rifle and Barnes' slightly manic look), but Tony doesn't think they really need to. Maybe if Hydra had super soldiers they needed to fight they would, but they don't since _they're_ said super soldiers, and taking down just one base (because Tony's sure there's more) won't be as hard as it could have been.

“I thought you stopped making weapons,” Clint says while twisting the new arrow tips onto some of his arrows in place of the old ones, “Not that I'm complaining. But I know you hung this up.”

Tony nods, looking at the four of them. Natasha looks up and Bucky and Steve give a glance.

“I did,” he starts, “But as soon as I saw these two,” he jerks his head in Steve and Bucky's direction, “In Russia, and the damage, I knew things were going to get more than a little messy.” Tony casts his eyes over the array weapons and gadgets he's come up with so far. “This is just a precaution. I'd rather be prepared than caught with my pants down. Again,” he finishes.

Clint nods and Tony sees Steve shift a little on his right leg at the mention of Russia. Steve's doing better, still, somehow. It's all they can really ask for.

“We ready?” Tony asks, pulling up and stepping into his armor.

Natasha pulls the slide on one of her guns and gives him a nod.

“Oh! One more thing,” Tony cuts in after the suit is finished piecing together over his body, flipping the face plate back up. He turns to Bucky and Steve. “You two have uniforms,” he says, gesturing to one of the sliding wall panels, “JARVIS.”

A wall panel slides open to his left and there's two uniforms, both black with thicker, armor-like covering over the vital points. They're made for stealth and combat, nothing special, but they're durable, as much as they can be in the type of combat they're all about to get into.

Bucky and Steve walk over, both inspecting the uniforms for a moment.

“There is another pair I have done, if you want. Flashier, granted, you can blame Coulson's design input for that,” Tony adds, Steve and Bucky both half turning to him, their eyes darting to his, “But I'm not sure if either of you are ready for them.”

He watches their eyes find each others' like magnets and converse in some combination of minute facial expressions, raised eyebrows, and shifting body language. It's like watching Natasha talk to Clint, or Bucky, and Tony's starting to feel a little left out that he can't do it.

They both look back at him. “No, not yet,” Bucky answers for them, pulling his shirt up and over his head and dropping it to the floor, Steve doing the same before starting to unbutton his jeans. Clint's eyes are the first to slowly skitter away and Tony takes his time turning. Natasha just watches them both, slipping the last gun into her thigh holster.

Bucky and Steve have no sense of modesty whatsoever. It's nice to know Tony's not the only one in that department.

“But tell Coulson we appreciate it, and that maybe someday we'll be up to putting them on,” Bucky finishes solemnly, pulling down the uniform top and slipping it on, pulling his hair up past the collar once it's settled.

Tony nods as Natasha leaves to go get their guest, and slides the face plate down as they finish changing into the black uniforms.

After, Steve picks his shield back up, red star glinting in the room's light and silver circles contrasting with the black of the uniform. Bucky's uniform top has no left sleeve, so the metal of his arm glints like Steve's shield, red on silver on black. They both look dangerous.

–

In the end, Tony ends up carrying them all up to the top of the building once night hits. It's not the easiest way to get there or the most convenient, in fact it's pretty damn uncomfortable if you ask Bucky, but it _is_ the quickest way, and a helicopter or visit from “Tony Stark I'm-Onto-You-Hydra Iron Man” would draw far too much attention. So, they all hold on to one another in the most uncomfortable bundle possible and fly over on a bright red and gold tincan.

Mr. Xavier did agree to come meet with Steve before they left, arriving with another tall woman with hair like fire. Bucky wasn't sure if Tony would be able to resist - long legs, red hair, poise - but he did, if looking a little strained. Though, the inevitability of Pepper killing him probably played a huge determining factor in how well he had behaved.

Natasha's been trained in strong, mental blocking techniques - they both have - which surprises no one, so Xavier was blocked from her. But, whatever she did decide to show him convinced the man to come at a moment's notice.

It had been a slow process that lasted about an hour, Bucky on edge and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, attention focused on Xavier and Steve with his own mental blocks up the entire time, but it had been done.

Bucky's heard of Xavier, in a few circles, knows he's one of the most powerful telepaths there is, which had made both he and Steve understandably uncomfortable with agreeing to have the man rummage around in Steve's head, but it was either that, or Rumlow and Hydra being able to control him again, so they chose the lesser of the two evils.

Xavier said Steve could keep up the blocks on the rest of his mind _but_ the specified section he needed to access to remove the sleeper programming, and Bucky could see Steve concentrating to do just that the whole time. It had been a tense hour.

Xavier offered to help Steve adjust and cope with what had happened to him, after - Steve and Bucky both – but Steve had quietly refused and all Bucky had tersely said was, “We've had enough of people in our heads.”

Xavier had nodded and left once he was finished, but made sure to let them know the offer would always be on the table. Though, Bucky was sure Xavier was fully aware neither of them would ever be inclined to take him up on it, mental blocks or not. Bucky didn't think you needed to be able to read minds to have seen that.

Tony lands and then they're all moving, releasing each other and darting over to the roof's vent. Bucky pries it open with his left hand, making sure to be as quiet about it as possible.

He sets the metal covering against the side of the vent opening and then they all pull off the bundles of rope they're each carrying and tie them off on various sections of the vent itself, tossing the ends down once they're finished, except Tony. Bucky, Steve, and Natasha hook a leg over the opening first to get ready to descend.

“ _Everyone's comms working?_ ” Tony double checks before they move any further, even though they already checked them before they left the Tower. His voice comes out altered through the helmet. “ _Check. Check. Barnes likes Disney. Check_.”

Bucky raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Tony's face plate. “Check. Check. Stark's a smartass. Check,” he replies, deadpan.

“ _Why yes, I am smart_ ,” Tony replies with an audible smirk, “ _And my ass isn't that bad either_.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and then JARVIS informs them that less than half of the employees have remained inside the building. It's better than any of them could have hoped for, even if that still leaves a lot of Hydra agents they'll have to go through, presumably. Bucky's not exactly complaining. He knows Steve isn't, either.

They all climb into the large air vent - ropes in hand - and begin scaling their way down, Tony the only one flying in with a, “ _See you all at the bottom_ ,” before taking off at a much quicker pace.

Bucky sees Stark dart into the large air shaft for the top of his portion of floors, Clint slipping into his from above all of them once they're all further inside. Bucky, Natasha, and Steve continue to slip further down on their ropes, and he shares a look with her ( _be careful_ ) before she, too, eventually exits the air shaft at the top of her section.

Then it's just Bucky and Steve continuing to make their way down the air shaft, Bucky finally stopping at the top of the tenth floor a little while later and Steve stopping shortly after him for a moment.

Steve glances up at him, and they share their own look ( _meet you there_ ) before Bucky kicks off the wall at a crouch and aims himself into the opening on the opposite side of the air vent. He digs his metal fingers into the metal of the tenth floor's vent opening and lets go of the rope once he's finished crawling inside.

He hears Steve keep slipping further down a few moments after as Bucky makes his way through the tunnels of metal, glancing into the rooms and offices below through the grates until he finds one that's empty with no discernable footsteps nearby.

He quietly pries the grate open with his left hand before lifting it off and slowly setting it aside, slipping through the opening and dropping down to the floor of the empty copy room in a silent crouch, eyes darting around to double check it's clear before he makes his way to the door frame on silent steps, assault rifle strapped to his back.

He listens for footsteps as he peers around the corner. There's five people at desks spread throughout the large space, all cubicles. Some of them could just be staying late and not Hydra at all, so he steps forward and leans against the doorframe with his right forearm, resting it above his head against the wood of the frame, left hand coming up to grab the strap against the side the assault rifle is on.

“Can't say I'd love to have your jobs,” he says, quickly drawing all of their attention. Three out of five stand up out of their chairs almost immediately, sending them clattering to the floor, bodies going tense. Bucky glances at the other two who look both confused and a little frightened (since he's not exactly dressed like a civilian. The metal arm alone would be alarming to a _normal_ person). Not Hydra then. “You two should get out of here. Consider this a sign that desk work is hell and you should rethink your lives,” he says with a cocky grin, deciding to save the assault rifle for a more dire scenario and dropping his left hand, pulling a gun out of the thigh holster on his left leg.

The three Hydra agents draw their own guns as he darts forward between the cubicles, dodging their gunfire while firing his own. The two bank workers fall out of their chairs and scramble to run for the door to the stairwell.

One floor soon to be down, five to go.

–

Natasha runs and jumps up, coiling her legs around the man's neck before using her momentum to swing her body around and down his front, rolling when she reaches the floor and slamming the back of the man's head into the ground as he loses his balance and falls with the force of the motion.

She rolls back up, drawing one of Stark's guns, aims, and fires.

She's shoved back a little with the recoil (it packs a _punch_ ) and hears the repulsor blast from the gun that she's come to associate with Tony Stark's suit. She watches it mow down the cubicles and blow two of the other Hydra agents back.

She stays half crouched for a moment behind half of the cubicle wall she's using for cover before slowly rising, waiting to see if the two other agents really are down before letting her eyes dart around. There were four.

She spins just as the knife comes down, dodging left and diverting the man's arm to the right with her own - gun still in hand - angling his swing down with her block and right hand before bringing her right arm up sharp to close-line him in the throat with the side of the hand she has gripped around the gun.

He only gets a second to choke before she spins and kicks him in the abdomen, bringing her leg up again to kick him in the side of the face. He goes down in seconds.

Letting out a breath, she scans the the office floor.

Deeming it clear, she heads for the stairs. Two floors down, four to go.

–

Clint fires a shot from the doorway and the arrow lands in the dead center of the room. He turns his face away and squeezes his eyes shut as the bright blast goes off and counts seven seconds before he opens them again. Turning his head back around, he rushes into the room, forcing each of the five people occupying it into unconsciousness one by one, quickly and efficiently, dealing with any resistance. There wasn't a sure fire way to make sure all of the people left in the building were Hydra, but they can't take any chances, so he knocks them all out, with little difficulty.

Checking to make sure the floor is clear, he heads down to the third level of his bunch. Three down, three to go.

–

“You guys really need to get better accessories to go with those terrible suits,” Tony says, letting the bullets bounce off the metal of his suit as he raises his right hand, blasting a desk towards the three agents firing from their cover a little ways off the center of the room. “At least bring a rocket launcher next time, _something_ ,” he finishes as the desk lands on the three, taking them out near simultaneously.

“And that takes care of that,” he declares before he has JARVIS scan the room to make sure it actually is clear before taking off.

“JARVIS, how did Hydra ever get this far if they keep bringing guns to an arc reactor fight?” he asks. JARVIS just points out that they should be glad Hydra no longer has the Cube.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony replies sarcastically, but really, he _is_ glad they don't have it anymore.

Four down, two to go.

–

Steve deflects the bullets with his shield before throwing it at the two agents positioned towards the right corner. It knocks them both to the floor before bouncing off of the wall behind them and hitting the third agent towards his left on its way back. It hits one of the desks after at an angle that makes it arc up and back to him. He catches it with his left hand as he pulls out one of the knives he took from Tony's arsenal and sharply twists to his right, throwing it into the agent that just ran in, gun raised from where she was hidden in the floor's break room.

He catches her stunned expression and makes his way over after she falls, reaching down to pull the knife out of her chest once she stops breathing, lifeless eyes staring up into his.

He turns back around and walks to the stairwell doors. Once there, he leans his ear close to the door and closes his eyes, tuning his other senses down to focus mostly on his hearing.

He hears the door to the first floor in the stairwell open quietly and then careful, quiet steps - three pairs of them – starting on the stairs. It's not many, which means either the first floor is clear past its stairwell door or there's more waiting behind it where the three heading in his direction just came from.

He leans his head back from the door while opening his eyes, forcing his breath calm and his muscles to uncoil, body going relaxed.

He waits until the door handle slowly starts to turn - waits for the door to slowly open a crack before he takes a step back and brings his right leg up, kicking the door open with the bottom of his boot and raising his shield as the force of the kick sends the door and the agent immediately behind it back and into the wall in the stairwell on his left.

Steve charges forward as the other two agents quickly scramble to get themselves back together from the surprise and start firing, knife gripped in his left hand.

Five floors down, one to go.

–

Steve uncoils from the knee he has on the floor, pushing himself up and slowing his breathing back down as his eyes land on the door that leads to the vault behind the bank's long counter. There's seven bodies laid out around him in various states of damage: necks broken, ribs and sternums caved in from blunt force, throats sliced and chests stabbed. He can feel blood streaked along his left cheek and into his hair, can see it on his hands from it having slid down the knife while he was fighting. He can feel it, heavy and sticky on his uniform in various places and hear the slight squelch under his boots as he walks.

He steps in another slowly pooling puddle of red as he heads for the back room, footsteps re-dipped red, leaving a trail behind him and he tries to ignore it.

He stops just before counter, staring at the door straight across from him, behind it.

He bites the inside of his lip before shifting, changing the knife to his right hand before moving forward and vaulting over the counter with his left, landing silently on the other side.

He switches the knife back over to his left as he starts walking, patiently, quietly, that thing building in his chest again like in the alley. He tries to force it down, can't afford to fall into the safety net of his own mind right now. He's killed before, as both Captain America and The Soldier, both out of duty and out of personal vendetta. This time is not so different.

Falling into that comfort will only make him more vulnerable. Probably. Sometimes, the fact that he can think more freely now is a deterrent. The Soldier is instinct and mission, and he remembers that from before.

Steve is a man of broken dreams, ideals, and thoughts. Clouded with old and scattered, blood soaked memories. In a way, the lack of so much identity when he was _just_ The Soldier made him a better fighter, more a force to be reckoned with than a man with extra strength. But the alley had been... _different_.

He was himself, buffered, sure, but he was... _aware_. He was there. He was Steve, and he was The Soldier, and he was mission and focus but also pain and vengeance. He was...

Steve shakes his head and stops at the vault door, stares at it.

He has a flash of going to an antique store with Peggy a long, long time ago, of stopping in front of a bookcase that opened like a door. The memory is almost sepia toned and warm in the way it glows when he thinks of it.

She was taller than him, then, and so beautiful and strong, _fierce_. Part of him can't help but wonder what she'd think if she saw him now, appropriately dressed in black for the slaughter he's just made and is still about to cause. He wonders if it would break her heart, to see what he's become. He's sure it would.

Steve shakes his head again a little to clear the thoughts and memory and grips the door handle, turning it quietly and pushing the door open to step in the horizontal hall. He turns right like the schematics said to and heads for the vault itself.

He can't think about that right now, memories of people and 'would be's, of being someone so different. He has something he needs to do.

His steps are steady, measured and quiet as he makes his way down the hall and nears the vault. Stopping at the corner just before it, he presses his back to the left side hall wall, peering around the corner carefully. The other end of the hall he's in that continues on away from him is empty. No sign of agents and no sounds of footsteps. He does hear them coming from inside the vault though, restless shifting and the sounds of straps being pulled taut.

The large vault door itself is open, but the two gates that Steve can see from his position past it are not. There's three men in front of the first gate, two in front of the second, which is as far as he can see from where he's at. Rumlow's presumably in the last portion of the room like what Bucky told him was a “boss battle.”

He thinks of Bucky's and Natasha's video games and manages a small smile, letting it slide off of his face a moment later as he refocuses.

He grips the straps on his shield tighter as his breath picks up minutely, mind going a little foggy at the edges as that _something_ coils up tighter in his chest like pressure.

Steve shakes his head slightly as he pulls back and leans against the wall he's pressed against, staring straight ahead at the wall opposite him as he tries to pull himself together.

He won't go under. He _can't_ go under. He needs to focus. He knows he's both The Soldier _and_ Steve ( _even Captain America, buried somewhere deep down_ ), but he can't allow The Soldier side of himself to take the brunt of this, he needs to find a balance so he can still be _Steve_ , too. He can't allow himself to get wrapped up in the safety net of his own mind, no matter how ugly the truth of himself is. He's grown complacent, enjoying his time with the Avengers, with Bucky, with Sam. Steve would never forget, _could_ never forget what he is, but he's grown used to not having to deal with it day to day. He's already been sloppy on more than one occasion because of it.

Taking a deep breath, he raises his shield with his right forearm, taking a step out with his left foot and moving away from the wall, coiling his right arm back before he throws the shield, launching it around the corner and into the first area of the vault before running after it, hearing gunfire starting from inside.

He throws the knife at the second agent as he darts inside past the main, large vault door, the first having gone down with the throw of his shield. He pulls out the gun he took earlier rapid quick to shoot the third agent in the throat above the body armor without aiming. He's better with a knife, but The Winter Soldier trained him with a gun, he couldn't miss unless he really tried.

He catches the shield as it rebounds and keeps running, bringing the shield forward as he charges to ram it into the first gate. The gate's metal _screeches_ and _groans_ as he bowls through it and into the two agents firing at him from beyond in the second area. He shoots the left agent as he charges the right, slamming the agent into the glass and metal with enough force to crack the thick casing. The agent he shot hits the ground like background noise.

He catches a glimpse of Rumlow smirking through the second gate's bars at his left, along with six other agents and Steve turns, swinging around and moving with the motion to ram his body and shield into the second gate, letting the agent he'd had pressed into the thick wall drop to the ground. The metal _screeches_ like the first and ultimately caves under the force.

Rumlow pulls out a tuning fork from his pocket and Steve freezes involuntarily, that more human part of him frozen out of uncertainty, _fear_.

Rumlow taps it on the gun he's got in his right hand, adjusting the pitch of his voice before saying in German, “ _Cracked slate._ ”

Steve's breath catches in his throat.

Nothing happens.

The Soldier growls low before he charges them and Rumlow falters, drops the tuning fork and quickly raises his gun to fire.

“ _Shit! Fire!_ ” Rumlow calls out, the men and him following the order.

The Soldier spins quickly to get near the three agents on his left, holding his shield close to his body to deflect the bullets before dropping low and sweeping his left leg out to get the legs out from under two of the agents. He keeps moving, seamlessly with the motion, lunging in quick to ram the edge of his shield into the stomach of the third while raising his gun up to fire at him and then the two agents on his right. They all drop.

Three agents down.

The two agents he kicked the legs out from under start to try and scramble up, reaching for their guns. Steve brings his shield up to deflect gunfire from Rumlow and the sixth agent while aiming his own gun down low at the two still half on the floor, shooting them both in the center of the forehead before launching himself up off of the floor in one smooth motion.

Five agents down.

One of Rumlow's shots buries itself into his side as he turns on his way up, and he hits Rumlow with his shield as he moves while he spins and kicks the last agent across the side of the face with his right leg, listening to the man's skull _crack_ with the force while Rumlow skids across the cement floor of the open room, gun knocked out of his hand.

Six agents down.

One left.

Steve sees Rumlow scramble to his feet out of the corner of his eye before he turns towards him, Rumlow pulling a knife out of the sheath on the side of his own belt, gun abandoned on the floor.

“Come on,” Rumlow taunts on a breath, spitting blood out of his mouth to the side, knife raised in his left hand between them and other hand raised slightly in position at his side, “Fight me like a man. Or are you too much of a _machine_.”

The Soldier glances at his shield for a moment before kneeling down slowly, keeping his eyes on Rumlow while setting it and the gun down onto the floor. He pulls the other two knives he has on him out as he slowly stands, ignoring the pain from the bullet in his side. It's not hard to do.

“That's it,” Rumlow says with a smirk as Steve gets into position, and then Rumlow's charging with a yell and striking out with the knife for The Soldier's face.

The Soldier dodges right and sweeps in with the knife in his own right hand, Rumlow dodging back out of the way of it while swinging his free right fist, landing a hit on Steve's right wrist and knocking the knife out of The Soldier's grip, turning in place to aim a kick at Steve's wounded side.

The Soldier dodges back before turning and copying the move at a faster speed, but aiming his right leg up high to hit Rumlow's left forearm with the metal leg beneath his black uniform pants, soaking in the sound of the bone _cracking_ and Rumlow's strained yell as his own knife clatters to the floor.

Rumlow's about to say something before Steve punches him in the abdomen with his free right his, sending Rumlow staggering back a few feet with a loud, pained grunt at the force of the impact.

Steve follows him with the movement, shifting his grip on the knife slightly to press down on the switch, listening to the electric currents in it spark to life as he switches the knife to his right hand and darts in, stabbing it downward into the meat of Rumlow's left shoulder. He shoves Rumlow back with the movement and into the far wall of the bank vault, pressing him there while Rumlow yells at the electric currents coursing through the new wound, through flesh and blood, oozing out of the wound.

The Soldier presses the switch again to turn it off, ripping the blade out and quickly tossing it into his left hand to reach up with his right, grabbing Rumlow by the throat and dragging him around in a sharp turn, forcing him to the floor so Steve can crouch over him, pinning him down with his right knee and free hand.

Rumlow's still conscious and Steve stares down at him, leaning in. “I'll tell you the same secret I told another member of your team before I killed her,” Steve starts, voice low and breaths quick from adrenaline, from the pressure slowly receding from throughout his chest and mind. He shifts, pressing down further on Rumlow's limbs as The Soldier sets the knife down for a moment, reaching down to his side and digging his fingers into the bullet hole, face only going slightly pinched as his fingers search.

He finds it, grabbing the small piece of metal and pulling it out, bringing his hand up between them to show Rumlow the bullet and his bloody fingers before he lets it drop to the ground right by Rumlow's right ear, the man's eyes widening slightly. “I'm not completely human,” The Soldier states, leans down closer and presses his right hand down a little more on Rumlow's neck while reaching back over to pick up the knife.

Rumlow grits his teeth against the pain as his breaths pick up a bit more to compensate for his restricted airway. “ _I'm **not** a man_ ,” Steve continues quietly, “I’m not a _machine_. I’m a _**monster.**_ ” He watches Rumlow's eyes widen.

Steve stares down at him for a long moment in thought, flipping the blade repeatedly with his left hand before he catches it a final time, ears picking up the sounds of bootsteps approaching, the weight, gait, and motion of them more familiar to him than his own.

He doesn't look when the bootsteps come to a stop at his left shoulder, pants brushing his side and against the arm of his uniform as he continues to stare down.

Rumlow's eyes look up from The Soldier's to the person next to him, darting between the two and unsure of where to land, of who's the bigger threat. The answer is both, it's _always_ been both.

The Soldier feels a hand on his left shoulder and he relaxes slightly, but remains tensed otherwise. He has something he needs to do.

Steve turns his head and glances up, sees Bucky's cold, hard eyes, matching his own.

“Go ahead,” The Winter Soldier says quietly, eyes finding his for a moment before going back to Rumlow.

He hears Rumlow's breath catch quietly before he tries to shift, _move_ , get out of Steve's grip.

The Soldier turns his head back around to stare at Rumlow for another long moment as he shifts to counter Rumlow's motions, tightening his grip on the knife before flipping it once more and then lifting it high and bringing it _down_ , _stabbing_ it at the exact point where Rumlow's left arm meets his shoulder's socket. Steve shifts with the motion immediately after, raising his right fist to _slam_ it down into the right side of Rumlow's ribs, putting in enough force to make and hear them _crack_ , crack like Bucky's had when Rumlow had been controlling Steve.

“This is your payment,” Steve says as Rumlow screams at the pain, and Steve absorbs the sound. It doesn't sound like music to him, it never has, but it does sound like payment. Rumlow used him like a doll, and used him to hurt Bucky, now he's paying the price. “You wanted The Soldier, here I am,” Steve says, “Here I'll _always_ be! _Look at what you made me!_ ” he yells at Rumlow. It's the last thing he says to him while Rumlow's alive.

He feels the hand on his shoulder squeeze tight and it's then that he realizes there is no “going under,” there is no being “more of Steve” or “more of The Soldier,” no illusions like the Avengers want to believe.

It's then that it really hits him that he _is_ both. There is no line. There is no border.

It's then that it hits him that he may regain more of who he was, may have his memories back, but it's all just _more of_ _him_. He'll never be anything like he was before, no matter how close to it he gets, because this will always be inside of him, may have always been there since the beginning if Zola could hone it like this, like Zola did with Bucky. This... _thing_. He thought he'd accepted it before, he thought he saw a difference, but there isn't one. It's _**all** him_.

He is Steve Rogers, and he is The Soldier, and he is a monster.

Steve yanks the knife out and Rumlow chokes on another scream. The blood's pooling quickly where his arm has been cut through at the shoulder, bone shining a bloody, sickly green white under the vault room's lights.

Bucky's hand is still on his shoulder, and there is a scream building itself up in his chest, trying to claw its way up his throat.

The Soldier pauses for a moment in brief thought before lifting the knife and quickly _stabbing_ it back down into the open wound in Rumlow's shoulder, pressing the switch at the last second as it embeds into bone.

Rumlow screams even louder and Steve grits his teeth. He feels The Winter Soldier shift slightly at his side before something comes into his periphery. He looks up and sees another knife, the one Bucky took from Tony's arsenal. Steve glances up at him again and The Winter Soldier doesn't move, just leaves the offer where it is.

Steve reaches up after a moment with his bloody fingers and takes it, pressing the switch to turn it on before moving it down. He shifts, pauses before bringing it up and stabbing it into Rumlow's right leg, a few inches above the knee like his own, his own yell finally ripping its way out of his mouth.

Rumlow manages one last scream before his body convulses with the added electrical current and The Soldier slowly stands, breathing hard, Bucky's hand staying on his shoulder the whole time. It's a comfort, the only comfort that will stay.

He stares down at Rumlow's convulsing form before looking up at The Winter Soldier, who leans forward after a moment and drags his lips up along Steve's left cheek, through the dried blood streak and the tears he didn't realize were sliding down his own skin.

“Look at what they made us,” The Soldier whispers, and The Winter Soldier leans back slightly. They stare each other for a long moment, blue-gray and cloudy blue, made of cold hard things and ice, before they both lean in, pressing their lips together. It tastes like blood, tears, pain, love, _home_. “I thought I knew, Bucky,” Steve whispers when they part an inch, voice shaky, “ _I thought I knew_.”

Bucky looks back at him and it's ice but it's warmth, too, understanding and pain at _Steve's_ pain, and Steve never saw it there before, not like this. Bucky understood before he did, Bucky always understands before he does.

The Winter Soldier leans up after a moment and presses his lips to The Soldier's forehead before pulling him in, and Steve doesn't resist, wraps his arms around Bucky and buries his face in Bucky's neck.

 _This is what we are now_ , Steve thinks, mind clear and heart broken, _This is who I really am_.


	14. Nobody Sees What We See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex, torture, Rumlow's mouth and the stuff he implies/shit that comes out of it.

Tony runs through the main vault door and slows to a stop just after the second inner gate, freezing at what he sees.

Steve and Bucky are standing next to Rumlow, fingers intertwined as they stare down at him. He can't see Barnes' face from where he's at, it's blocked by his long hair, but Steve's expression is blank and somehow clear at the same time, dried tear tracks stained down the right cheek Tony can see. Rumlow's convulsing minutely on the floor, and after having JARVIS run a scan he can see the extent of the damage. He's not blind to why there's a knife wound at Rumlow's left shoulder socket and above his right knee, but there's sick feeling curling in his gut at knowing the knives _he made_ were used to do it, even if he knew things were likely to go in this direction. It reminds him of why he stopped making weapons in the first place.

Rumlow's not dead yet, but he will be soon if the knives don't come out, the electric currents cease, and the blood coming out is stopped.

It's then that Barnes leans down, pulling the knife embedded in Rumlow's shoulder out before shifting over enough to pull the other out of his leg, Steve watching the whole time. He's traumatized again, but Tony's not sure in what way. He's not catatonic, Tony can see his eyes tracking Barnes' and Rumlow's movements, and his body shifted to something subtly more defensive when Tony came near this section of the room. His fingers are locked with Barnes' too. It's not a lot to go on, but it's something. He's responsive, but Tony can't be sure if that's just muscle memory and him being on autopilot or if he's actually aware enough to hold a conversation, and how much of him is The Soldier or Steve right now.

Bucky lets go of Steve's left hand carefully after a moment, and Tony sees them look at each other for a long minute before Barnes' attention shifts back to Rumlow, expression going a little thoughtful. His eyes dart up to Tony before he signals him over with his head, rising back up off of the floor.

“We're taking him back to the Tower,” Barnes says, and Tony sees Steve stiffen for a moment before relaxing again, or, well, the closest thing he's getting to relaxed in their current environment.

“Information,” Steve says, “On _Project Insight_.” And that answers Tony's question of whether he's actually in there or not, but not exactly which side of him is occupying most of his head space.

Barnes gives a nod, looking back down at Rumlow for a moment, teeth baring at him momentarily before he schools his expression back into something more neutral. “We need more,” is all Bucky says, looking up at Tony for a moment before his eyes go back to Steve. He takes Steve's hand again and starts walking for the gate, pulling Steve along behind him who goes willingly, eyes lingering blankly on Rumlow before glancing to Tony briefly as they pass, inevitably finding their way back to Bucky as they go.

There was a world of things in Steve's eyes that Tony doesn't have long enough to start going through after just one shared look, but first and foremost looked like...clarity. Tony's not sure what to make of that, but it makes him uneasy. They both make him uneasy like this.

The two leave without another word, and Tony looks back down at Rumlow, stepping closer to lean down to try and stop the bleeding in his shoulder.

–

Natasha and Clint end up sneaking back to the Tower without a 'ride' from Tony, which works out fine since Tony now also has to carry Rumlow's unconscious, _still alive_ self.

The ride is just as uncomfortable, if just as short, back to the Tower as it was to the bank. As soon as they land on the outdoor area of Avengers Tower, Bucky leads Steve, still by the hand, back to Steve's apartment. He doesn't want questions or looks or for them to be around people right now, he wants Steve and he wants Steve comfortable. Being surrounded by the others won't make him comfortable, either of them, if the forcefully relaxed way Steve's carrying himself is anything to go by. Steve gets looser the more uncomfortable he is, and Bucky's well versed in telling the difference on if it's being forced or not.

They get off the elevator at the thirty-fourth floor and Bucky leads the way inside the apartment, Steve closing the door behind them, and then they're turning to one another, Steve's hands going to the sides of Bucky's face and Bucky's going to the tops of Steve's shoulders.

“ _I'm so sorry,_ ” Steve rushes out quietly, and Bucky pulls him in, resting their foreheads together, “I'm _so sorry,_ Buck. I thought I understood. _I thought I understood_. But I didn't, not fully, not like I do now. ”

“Shh,” Bucky tries to sooth, Steve's breaths getting fast and expression frantic, “ _Shh_ , I know. I know.”

“You always know,” Steve tries to joke, but it comes out more earnest than anything, pained. “ _I'm so sorry_ ,” Steve repeats emphatically, urgently, “I'm so sorry. I thought I knew, but I didn't, not like I know now,” he says, “It's _all me_. It's _all us_. There is no sectioning off different parts of ourselves. God, this whole time I thought I _understood_ myself, I thought I understood _you_. I didn't mean to make you feel like I didn't accept all of you, like I didn't love all of you. Did I?” he asks desperately, eyes searching Bucky's, “Bucky, did I?”

It all comes out quick and broken and Bucky leans in, pressing their lips together after the onslaught to try and sooth him.

“No,” Bucky answers in a near whisper after they part, strengthening his voice, “Steve, no. Not ever.”

Steve stares at him for a moment, and Bucky can see him trying to push the tears back, to speak.

Bucky shakes his head slightly and Steve closes his mouth, looking at him. “Steve, I thought you understood, too, I did. And even knowing now that you didn't doesn't change anything. If anything, it just makes everything clearer, yeah?” Bucky asks.

Steve's mouth presses into a firm line and he nods, leaning in and butting his forehead gently against Bucky's. “Yes,” he replies quietly, so quietly.

Bucky gives a slight nod of his own, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a breath before opening them again. “Now we're completely on the same page,” he says quietly, staring up at Steve, “And I still love you. I'll always love you Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America, The Soldier. As if I could make myself stop after ninety years of it.” Bucky cracks a small grin, but it's a little watery. God, but he does love him. Can't imagine _stopping_.

Steve takes a moment to respond, but then he's pressing his lips back to Bucky's, making a broken noise in the back of his throat against Bucky’s lips that Bucky eagerly swallows down.

He didn't intend for it to go any further than that, but then the kiss turns frantic and they're pressing into each other more, hands moving to pull at clothes and get to skin. Bucky's back hits a wall but he barely notices, lips shifting and sliding against Steve's with hot breaths puffed against his face when the angle changes. They both break apart far enough to hurriedly pull their uniform tops off and then their hands are on each other, gripping and grabbing and roaming against skin and metal.

Bucky breaks the kiss a few moments later and dodges his head to the side to avoid Steve's lips trying to follow, waiting for Steve to open his eyes before taking Steve's hand and pulling him towards the main bedroom. Steve follows willingly as Bucky leads them inside, Steve closing that door behind them, too. It makes them both feel better, knowing that _they'll_ know if someone tries to intrude on them from inside the apartment, that most anyone trying to get to them will have to open the door first. It's a notification on their part, and a delay on the intruder's.

Bucky pulls Steve to the bed and then clambers on top of it, pulling Steve in by a metal hand on the back of his neck and bringing their lips together while Steve bends at the waist and shoves his uniform pants and underwear down, climbing onto the bed soon after to follow. Steve pushes Bucky back into the mattress at an angle, the two of them laying across it diagonally as their tongues slide against each other and Bucky's legs spread to accommodate Steve's form, their hands roaming and clutching at one another.

Bucky's hands let go of Steve to drop down to his own hips, shoving his own uniform pants down while Steve lifts up off of him enough for Bucky to get the pants all the way off, both of them kicking them off of the bed once they are. Steve lowers himself back down after and immediately grinds down into him as Bucky grinds up, both groaning into each others' mouths while Bucky's right hand's fingers slide up the back of Steve's neck and into his hair, his left sliding down Steve's back. Steve's own hands find their way to Bucky's hips, gripping tightly. There's still dried blood on Steve's cheek and in his hair. Bucky doesn't care, and Steve can't seem to either.

They grind into each other a little longer, harder, before Steve breaks the kiss, panting against Bucky's face and looking down at him. “Buck, I want-” Steve cuts himself off, squeezing Bucky's left hip firm but gentle, unable to articulate the rest, but Bucky knows. Like Steve said, Bucky _always_ knows.

Bucky nods, staring up at Steve before he turns his head slightly to the side and then back, eyes glancing around before spotting one of the nightstands closest to them on the right side of the bed, right above his head. He slides his fingers out of Steve's hair to reach up with his right hand, pushing himself a little further up the bed so he can pull the drawer open and search around inside. He knows Stark better than to think he hasn't put any- _Aha_ , there.

He pulls out a condom, tossing it onto the bed before reaching back in, in search of lube. Once he finds it, he tosses that onto the bed too, leaving the drawer open and scooting back down the mattress to get back under Steve.

Steve reaches over to grab the lube, staring at it for a moment before looking back to Bucky. “You know I've never done this before,” he says quietly, biting his lower lip a little nervously, eyes still wild.

Bucky smirks up at him, dark hair splayed across the sheets. “I have. With women at least,” he replies, nudging Steve's hips with his own, “I'll guide you.”

Steve sits back onto his knees at the prompt, Bucky propping himself up onto his left elbow as he does.

They've never done this before, with each other, and Steve _at all._ They've never gone this far. They weren't trying for it and it just never progressed that far until now, weren't in a rush to get here. But now feels right. Now they both want this, now they both _need_ this.

Steve opens the tube of lube and pours some into his hand, spreading it along his fingers, pouring more when he glances at Bucky and Bucky gestures for him to do so.

He's about to cap it when Bucky shakes his head. “We're going to need more of that,” he says, “I know how vaginas work and trust me, men don't work the same way,” he finishes a little teasingly, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve doesn't smile, eyes still wild and frantic as he looks at Bucky, looks back at the tube briefly, and then at Bucky again, always back to Bucky. He's not going to question Bucky's knowledge. Bucky _does_ know more about this than Steve does, either from his time with women before the war, whomever he might have been with _during_ the war, and on missions as The Winter Soldier, maybe with Natasha even, even _with_ what Steve has heard from all of those eras. _Hearing_ about it and _doing_ it tend to be two completely different things, in his experience, and Bucky has experience with it where Steve has none.

Bucky spreads his legs further and Steve swallows, nervous and anxious and...there's a frantic, wild _energy_ pulsing in his veins and he can't make it _stop_. Like all of the pieces have slotted into place. Like he's done _changing_ between one thing and another and _another._ He was Steve Rogers: skinny kid from Brooklyn who tried standing up to bullies, personal safety be damned. He was Captain America: symbol and icon and a mask he put on for the world, both figuratively and literally. He was The Soldier: Weapon of Hydra and the Red Room without feeling or mercy or identity. Now, he feels like he's finally _one_ thing, everything accumulated into one person. He finally feels like he's complete for the first time in his whole life.

But he forces himself to still long enough to just look at Bucky, eyes slowly trailing up his torso, over ancient scars full of their shared and parted history and up his metal arm, eyes catching on the red star before trailing up Bucky's neck and the jaw-length strands of his hair to his face, his eyes.

Bucky widens his legs a little more to catch Steve's attention again and then Steve leans in, pressing a kiss to the red star on Bucky's arm before leaning up to press one to his lips, and it's gentle, as gentle as he can be right now, but still urgent.

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly, eyes on his.

“I just,” Steve starts, looking back at him for a moment, “I love you, Buck. We're both _monsters_ and _people_ and ninety years old and _I love you_.”

Bucky blinks, looking at him.

“I'd kill for you,” Steve says quietly, leaning forward to press his forehead to Bucky's, “I _have_ killed for you, and I don't regret it, I _can't_ regret it. I'd die for you, I _have_ died for you, and now _I_ _get it_. I get what we are, _who_ we are, and I didn't before but now I do and I _can't_ -” Steve cuts himself off and Bucky presses their lips together, gives him a reason to stop.

“Come on,” Bucky says quietly a few moments later when they break apart, reaching over with his right hand to gently grab the wrist of Steve's wet fingers and guide them down between his legs, leaning back slightly to make it easier to get them where he _needs_ them to go.

Steve's fingers slide between warm skin and Bucky lets his wrist go, lets Steve decide what to do because he'll never force him, not for _anything_.

Steve pauses for a moment, eyes staying on Bucky's while he finally presses one slick finger to Bucky's rim, circling it with a fingertip once before finally, curiously pushing the tip just inside. He's tempted to look down, but then Bucky's breath hitches as he presses the finger in slowly, so slowly, to the first knuckle, then farther, eyes staying on Bucky's the whole time. And it's hard to restrain himself, but he does, and Bucky's probably the only person who could ever make him.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says quietly a few moments later, letting out a huff of a breath, eyes on his, “I've taken _you_ on in a fightand made it out _._ I'm not going to break. I can take it. Let it out.”

Steve huffs a breath before pushing his finger in a little faster, pulling it back out slowly and enjoying the barely there moan Bucky makes before pushing it back in. He watches Bucky's expression shift, uncomfortable and adjusting and inviting and is enraptured by what he sees.

He quickly gets two fingers in, adding more lube as Bucky indicates before making it to a third, Bucky's skin lightly flushed and breathing picked up. He's kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, and Steve’s on his. Steve could get lost in them forever, almost wants to, but he also wants to look down, wants to _see_.

Steve finally breaks eye contact to look, watches his fingers slide in and out of Bucky at a quick pace, fingers coated in lube and both of their skin warm and slick, listens to the squelching sounds of the lube when his fingers push in. His cock grows harder at the sight, the sound, it's impossible not to. “ _Bucky_ ,” he says, Bucky's muscles squeezing around his fingers once while he watches and Steve's breath hitches, eyes darting back up to Bucky's, “ _I want-_ ”

Bucky nods quickly, biting his lower lip as Steve pulls his fingers out, leaning in to catch that same lip between his own teeth before pulling it into his mouth sucking on it. Bucky's right hand comes up and grabs the back of Steve's neck, pulling him in closer to kiss him fully, sliding his tongue into Steve's mouth with a demanding moan.

They break apart and Steve reaches over, grabs the condom with one hand and brings it up to tear it open with his teeth. Bucky's eyes widen slightly and go a little wild and he licks his lower lip, biting it again slightly at the sight.

Steve pulls the condom out and tosses the wrapper somewhere off to the side, taking a moment to roll it on.

Bucky reaches for him and Steve shifts closer as warm fingers find the back of his neck, holding on as they both look down to watch Steve guide his cock forward to nudge inside.

“ _Steve,_ ” Bucky says, low and impatient when Steve slides a little further in, purposefully going slow.

It makes Steve crack a small grin in the midst of the pressure he feels throughout his body and he continues to push in, moving even slower. Bucky lets out a growl of frustration before pulling him in by the back of his neck, shifting his own hips down a little to impatiently push himself further onto Steve's cock.

Steve laughs quietly before biting his lower lip, suddenly pushing all the way in in one, quick thrust, one hand gripping one of Bucky's hips and the other gripping the sheets, both of their breaths catching. His eyes must have closed at some point because he has to force them open again, glancing up to find Bucky's and then they're both leaning in, kissing frantically, deeply as Steve forces himself to slowly pull out a few inches, then push back in with a sharp thrust and they both groan.

Steve quickly picks up his pace as Bucky adjusts, both of them breaking apart to watch for a few thrusts before their lips crash again, Bucky falling back onto the bed and pulling Steve down with him. Steve changes the angle of his hips a few times before he finally finds the spot he knows exists that makes Bucky's back arch up off the bed with a loud moan into his mouth, Steve pulling back and leaning down to bite the pulse point on Bucky's neck and suck a bruise.

Bucky leans his head back as he moans out into the room, hands sliding down from where they've found their way to Steve's shoulder and the back of his neck to rake down Steve's back, one sliding back up to grip Steve's shoulder again roughly while the other reaches down to grab Steve's ass, moving his hips to meet each quick thrust.

“Faster, _**Fuck** , Steve_,” Bucky moans loudly, and Steve obliges, using that frantic, chaotic energy to speed up, driving into Bucky faster, _harder_ , the slick sounds of the lube reaching his ears and sending a slithery shudder down his spine, Bucky’s blunt nails chasing it.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve pants into his neck, fingers digging hard into Bucky's hip and the other still gripping onto the sheets. He can feel it, the heat coiling tight below his stomach. He's going to come soon. “ _Bucky_ ,” he says again as he gets closer, Bucky's legs wrapping around his waist as he thrusts into him, Steve’s own quiet moans soaking into the skin of Bucky's neck.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky pants back, angling his face down as Steve leans up, more so just to press their mouths together and breathe the same air than kiss, before Steve shifts up a little further, trailing his lips down across Bucky's cheek to his ear as he nears his orgasm, knows Bucky's close, too.

He moans quietly into Bucky's ear and Bucky's grip on him tightens, and then he says, softly, but urgently, “ _Bucky,”_ and Bucky lets out a loud groan as he comes, warm and wet, streaking up between their stomachs and chests as his fingers and heels dig into Steve's skin and back. And then Steve's coming too, burying his face into Bucky's neck with his own groan, panting.

His thrusts gradually slow as he continues moving through their orgasms, eventually coming to a stop as Steve pants into Bucky's neck and Bucky pants into his hair, all that frantic energy drained out of him and drifting away. They don't move for a few minutes as they try to catch their breaths, and then Bucky shifts slightly and Steve slowly pushes himself up over Bucky, both shifting their hips so Steve slides out, staring at each other.

Steve leans down and Bucky leans up, their lips meeting in the middle for one long, languid kiss, Steve letting out a long, warm and contented breath through his nose against Bucky's face. They pull back and Bucky grins up at him a little, Steve returning it with a small smile before looking down at themselves.

“Way to go, Buck,” Steve teases, raising his eyebrows at the smeared mess on both of their stomachs and chests.

Bucky reaches up and smacks him upside the head gently with a hand and Steve laughs, looking back at him.

“Says the guy who fucked me,” Bucky replies sarcastically, sitting up a little with a groan and reaching down to pull the condom off of Steve, tying it off and tossing it into the trashcan on the opposite side of the bed by the other nightstand, “It's your fault.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “ _Yeah, yeah,_ ” he says, crawling off the bed and slipping into the bathroom for a moment, coming back with tissue to clean them both up. “You loved it,” he replies with a grin, making Bucky snort, his face softening after a moment before he leans back up, kissing Steve gently.

“Yeah I did,” Bucky says quietly, seriously, eyebrows rising after a moment as he goes back to joking, “Doesn't change your pillow talk. Now throw that away and crawl into bed with me.”

Steve tosses the tissue into the trash after he’s cleaned them up and crawls in with Bucky under the sheets, both pulling each other close as soon as they're under and wrapping their arms around one another.

“ _Thank you, Buck_ ,” Steve says quietly, and Bucky looks at him, leaning into press his lips to Steve's forehead. He doesn't need to use words.

–

They both take turns waking from a night free of nightmares, slow and comfortable, the sun not quite up and the room still mostly dim.

Bucky wakes first, eyes drawn to Steve like they always are and he runs his fingers lightly through Steve's short, wild hair, dried blood that Steve forgot to clean and all. Steve was right, they are both monsters if they didn't even care to clean that off _first_ , but he knows that already, is glad Steve finally fully understands that about themselves now, too.

He doesn't miss the ' _old Steve_ ,' as some might call him, the one before any of this happened, before the future and Hydra and the _war_. Bucky looks on those memories fondly, if sometimes painfully. But he wouldn't change what they've become, how things went, because that Steve is still with him in all of the pieces that Steve _is_. He's not the same person, neither of them are, but there's scattered pieces of themselves that are, that help make up the whole of who they are, of _what_ they are now (monsters, people), to _themselves_ and to _each other._ So there's nothing to really miss, because Steven Grant Rogers, Stevie, Rogers, _Steve,_ Captain America, _The Soldier_ , they're all still _here_ with him, sleeping next to him in the same bed.

He leans a little closer and lightly presses his lips to Steve's forehead, and Steve doesn't wake from his, for once, peaceful, if exhausted sleep.

Steve stirs about ten minutes later, eyes blinking open slowly before closing after a few moments, giving a full body stretch that draws a warm smile from Bucky. The sun's very slowly starting to come up.

“No nightmares,” Bucky says quietly, because speaking any louder seems wrong, right now.

Steve blinks at him for a moment, eyes dropping down to somewhere around Bucky's collarbone. “Yeah,” he replies just as quietly, “I just...I accepted it, everything.” His eyes move back up to Bucky's. “That doesn't mean they won't come later, but. Bucky, I'm just-” 

Steve closes his mouth, unsure of how to word it. He's sure he should feel disgusted with himself somewhere down inside because he can still feel blood dried in a streak across his cheek and he tortured a man, but he doesn't. He just feels...free. And it's messed up and might make him a horrible person, but he doesn't feel like a horrible person. He just feels...acceptance. He doesn't know if they'll make it out of this in one piece ( _ha_ ) or alive, and before he was fine with that so long as he and Bucky were together for all of it ( _till the end of the line_ ), and that hasn't changed, but now he feels...like he'll be fine with _himself_ if it happens, truly fine, instead of like he's forcing it all to the side in some mock version of the acceptance he feels _now_. And, God, it's so different from what he felt before. He didn't know how different it really was from the full thing until he finally got it and felt it all.

Bucky studies him for a moment before nodding slightly, _knowing_ what Steve means even if Steve can't say it in words, and leans in to press his lips to Steve's briefly, shifting back slightly to look at him. “I know,” he says seriously, but a smirk finds its way onto his lips a moment later.

Steve snorts quietly. “Of course ' _you know,_ '” he says before leaning in, pressing a kiss of his own to Bucky's lips before shifting closer, pressing his morning erection into Bucky's hip with a quiet sound against Bucky's lips.

Bucky presses further into the kiss while sliding a leg between Steve's, pressing his own cock into Steve's hip while wrapping his left arm around Steve's waist, Steve mirroring him with his own arm. They grind against each other as they kiss languidly, Steve pulling back after a few minutes to catch Bucky's eyes, both panting faintly. 

“Bucky, can we- I want you to,” he says quietly, shifting the arm he has around Bucky's waist to slide his hand down Bucky's side and grip his hip, stopping their movements.

Bucky stares at him for a moment, eyes widening a little with a slightly wild look in them before his expression turns serious. “Are you sure?” he asks. Steve nods, sliding the hand he has on Bucky's hip back around to Bucky's lower back, slipping it down further to grip his ass and pull Bucky's hips closer to his own. Then they both move at the same time, Bucky rolling onto Steve as Steve rolls onto his back, Bucky laying on top of him, metal fingers sliding off to grip the sheet at the side of Steve's waist.

Steve spreads his legs to let Bucky settle between them, grinding up into him slightly and watching Bucky's eyelids flutter closed for a moment. “I want you to,” Steve says quietly, “I want you inside me.” Bucky's eyes go a little wild again as they find Steve's.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Bucky finally nods, shifting over to reach back into the still open nightstand to his right and fish out another condom while Steve searches the bed to find the tube of lube from last night. After they each find what they’re looking for, Steve relaxes back into the bed while Bucky gets to work.

Bucky forces himself to be patient and take his time prepping Steve, and Steve shifts as the first finger slides in slowly, carefully pushed inside of him. It feels strange, but once Bucky gets his finger all the way in and crooks it, sparks shoot up Steve's spine and behind his eyelids and he lets out a moan, back arching and his head pressing back into the pillow.

“Bucky,” he manages to get out while Bucky slowly adds in a second finger.

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, voice urgent and full of a want that makes Steve feel warm all over and spread his legs wider, eyes staying on Bucky and listening to Bucky's breath hitch as he does.

He gets three fingers inside Steve and it's a slow process, slower than Steve was last night, but Bucky's patient, careful, even though by the slightly wild look in his eyes Steve knows he'd rather be anything but.

Bucky opens the condom with his teeth like Steve had last night, smirking slightly. Steve reaches up to pull the condom out of Bucky's mouth and then sits up a little to reach down and slide it on him, hears Bucky's almost whisper of, “ _Fuck,_ you're going to kill me,” as Bucky's eyes go darker. Steve meets him for a hungry kiss, tongues sliding almost violently urgent against one another.

They break apart and Bucky pushes forward to nudge his cock inside of Steve, hands gripping onto the sheets and teeth clenching as he forces himself to go slow, Steve propping himself up on an elbow like Bucky had to watch. He doesn't last nearly as long as Bucky did and ends up collapsed back onto the bed, Bucky's mouth coming down to crash into his as Steve groans at the slow slide, breath hitching when Bucky finally bottoms out and begins to move.

It still feels strange until he adjusts, and then Bucky's changing the angle of his thrusts just right to hit that spot inside of him and he moans into Bucky's mouth as the sparks light up his spine and behind his eyelids, hands coming up grip Bucky's right shoulder and the back of Bucky's neck. Bucky's metal hand grips bruisingly tight on Steve's hip as the other finds its way into the back of his hair, gripping tightly as he speeds up.

Steve presses his right foot into the mattress to better move his hips to meet each of Bucky's thrusts, left wrapping around Bucky's waist. He slides the fingers of the hand on the back of Bucky's neck up and into the back of his hair, shorter strands dancing across his skin as they move. Bucky breaks the kiss and lets his head fall forward toward Steve's with the motion, a shiver running down his spine that Steve can feel when Steve scratches gently at his scalp, Bucky giving a moan.

It doesn't take long for Steve to feel his orgasm begin to build and he catches Bucky's eyes, who lets go of his grip on Steve's hip to slide his hand between them and wrap his cool, metal fingers around Steve's cock. Steve moans, rocking up into them a bit as they begin to stroke him.

Bucky thrusts harder, faster as Steve leans his head back, baring his throat and gripping onto Bucky tightly as he comes with a loud moan, warmth spurting up between their stomachs and chest, over Bucky's metal fingers. Bucky thrusts a few more times before he, too, comes, groaning loud before dropping his head to lick a long line across Steve's right collarbone and up the length of his bared neck, biting the skin between Steve's neck and shoulder before sucking a bruise there.

None of their bruises will last, but for now, they can revel in having them.

Steve pants into the open air of the room as Bucky's thrusts slow to a stop, eyes slowly opening as he feels Bucky shift and slide out of him, squirming slightly at the strange feeling and listening to Bucky laugh quietly at him.

The condom is tied off and tossed into the trash as Bucky crawls off the bed and walks to the bathroom, Steve watching his naked back go. Bucky comes back a few moments later with tissue, cleaning them both off and tossing it into the trash before lying to Steve's right on his stomach, chin resting on top of Steve's chest.

“Hey,” Bucky says quietly, a warm smile on his face.

“Hey,” Steve replies just as quiet, a slow, warm smile finding its way onto his own face.

He can feel the dried blood on his skin as he stretches and it's uncomfortable, a little disturbing even, on some small level, but not as much as it used to be. He's...well, accepted the full ugly truth about himself, and he knows everything won't magically be better, but it's changed things, and he feels...better, but not _better_. He feels...more comfortable with himself, like he doesn't have to try and be one thing and be afraid of the others, because they're _all_ him. It doesn't mean he's completely fine with what happened, or himself, but most of him is...better.

“What’re you thinking about,” Bucky asks, eyes half-lidded, still on Steve.

Steve blinks once, closing his eyes. “Me,” he answers quietly, “About what I am. What the hell I'm supposed to think about any of it beyond finally feeling...whole.”

Bucky watches him for a long moment before making a quiet, agreeing sound, shifting to press a light kiss to Steve's chest that makes Steve open his eyes and look down at him.

“We are what we are, we are _who_ we are, everything, all of it,” Bucky says quietly, eyes looking back up to Steve, “We're not fine, we're not healthy, and we probably won't _ever_ be. Hell, we had sex with blood on your face and in your hair. We're pretty fucked up,” he finishes with a joking tone.

Steve's eyebrows draw together, still looking down at him. “You sound fine with this,” he says, studying Bucky.

“Well,” Bucky trails off as he glances to the side, shrugging slightly before looking back to Steve, “We've been through hell, and I know I won't ever be the ' _James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes_ ' of 1944 again. And with my memories back now I know I won't ever just be ' _The Winter Soldier,_ ' either. I'm both, everything and everyone I was, for the rest of my life, and that's not gonna go away unless they wipe my memory again.” Bucky swallows and Steve grips his right arm, squeezes it as they stare at each other.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky says a little quieter, eyes lowering to Steve's chest before they move back up to find his eyes again. They'll die before they let that happen again, or kill each other, if they have to. They're never going back to that chair. _**Never**._

“I'm just...” Bucky trails off in thought, trying to think about how to word it, “I am what I am, I can't ever really change that. I've done horrible things, we both have, and I have to live with it or not. Beyond that, I can't worry about it. But you've always been different, Steve, which is why you didn't completely understand until last night. You will always try to be the better person, to do what's right, even as fucked up as we are, and I don't live in a world like that. My world is gray, and now yours is a little more too,” Bucky finishes quietly, tone turning saddened towards the end, sounding like he's lost and found something in almost equal measure.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes to the look on Bucky's face. “Maybe. Yes,” he says just as quiet, “But can I be a killer and still be _me_ , too?” 

He opens his eyes to look at Bucky, who watches him in silence for a few minutes, studying him before he finally says, “I guess we'll see.”

Steve reaches down, pushing some of Bucky's bangs gently back from his face. “Yeah,” he says a little quieter, “I guess we will.” Because although this large puzzle piece has finally slotted into place, he's not sure if he'll be able to live with it past the euphoria of finally being whole. Neither of them are.

They stay in bed for a little longer before finally dragging themselves to the shower. Steve blows soap bubbles in Bucky's face and Bucky smears soap on the tip of Steve's nose. They laugh like children and share kisses like secrets, washing each others' hair and backs like they used to in the 1930's.

After, Steve takes off for his morning run with Sam while Bucky throws on a pair of Steve's boxers and leaves the apartment, taking the elevator up to the communal room.

He feels like showing off the bruises Steve left, since they won't be completely faded until at least a couple hours after noon. It's childish and stupid and makes him grin like an idiot whenever he looks down and sees them on his hips, feels them on his back, and knows there's still one on his neck. Besides, he doesn't feel like wearing clothes. Not like it's a crime to wander around the Tower in a pair of boxers. He's tempted to just go naked but Steve will throw more of a fit if Bucky goes _almost_ naked in _Steve's_ boxers.

He gets off the elevator and walks down the hall, stepping into the room and heading straight for the kitchen. Clint's on the couch watching early morning cartoons and glances at him when he comes in, eyebrows rising before he shifts, half turning towards the kitchen and resting his arm on the back of the couch.

Clint whistles. “Fun night?”

“And morning.” Bucky grins lewdly at him while grabbing a box of cereal to pour into the bowl he just got out.

“Ha!” Clint lets out, punching the air, “Tony owes me money.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, fishing a spoon out of one of the many kitchen drawers and shoving it into the bowl. “I want details,” Bucky says, going over to the fridge to pull out the milk and pour some over his cereal, putting it back once he's done and shoveling some of the cereal into his mouth before picking up the bowl and making his way over to the couch. He hops over the back of it and lands on the cushions in a perfectly balanced crouch before lowering himself to sit, all without spilling a drop.

Clint's eyebrows practically climb up into his hairline and his mouth hangs open a little. “You've gotta be shitting me,” he half-mumbles, before blinking and shaking his head. Bucky smirks while taking another bite. “Tony bet you'd take Steve's cherry three weeks ago,” Clint starts, turning back around to face the tv but still looking over at Bucky, “I bet a month. I'm the closest,” he finishes with a triumphant smirk.

Bucky hums an agreeing sound before swallowing, eyes drifting to the tv. It's some cartoon with three little girls in pink, blue, and green flying around. “How about the others,” he says more than asks, taking another bite while he looks back to Clint.

Clint glances up in thought. “Let's see...Natasha's is three weeks from now, Thor bet two weeks ago, Bruce was pressured into it so he bet something at random - two months from now - and the rest is history,” Clint says with a shrug and a grin, “Stark put a lot of money on the line. I have a new bow I want to get.”

Bucky snorts after taking another bite, chewing and swallowing before saying, “Bet I could kick your ass at long range.”

Clint sits up a little, a spark in his eye. “We never did get to have our competition.”

Bucky glances at him, smirk easing its way back onto his face. “Five minutes. Shooting range.”

“You're on,” Clint says, getting up off of the couch and turning, staring at the back of it for a long minute. He glances at Bucky before looking back at the couch, moving suddenly and hopping over it in a quick move without his hands. Bucky hears him hit the floor after he lands with a curse and snorts again.

“Shut up, Barnes,” Clint grumbles as he picks himself up off the floor and heads for the elevator.

“Nope,” Bucky says to Clint's retreating back.

“ _And put some damn pants on!_ ” Clint calls back in retaliation.

Bucky's eyes go back to the cartoon as he finishes his cereal, a smile on his face.

–

“I can't believe you,” Clint says a little forlornly next to an unlocked weapons cache.

Bucky did _not_ put any pants on.

Bucky grins, going over to the cache and looking at his options. “Whatever,” he says, hands on his hips, “I look good.” Well, that's not entirely true. He's riddled with scars and his left arm is made of metal with a star on it that's practically an ownership stamp. But, well, Steve and Natasha think he looks fine and that's all that really matters, so he believes _them_. Besides, he does still look good in a suit when everything's covered up. It's not the best basis for self-esteem, but it's a start.

Clint makes a sound between a snort and a scoff as he picks up one of the few bows and a single arrow from the batch, walking over to the edge of the shooting range with them. There's two targets already set up next to each other at the other end of the whole shooting range's floor, back near the opposite wall.

Bucky's eyes drift over the various rifles and, logically, he should go with something newer, but his attention keeps going back to _that_ one. He's not oblivious, he'd noticed it as soon as it was _possible_ to notice it, but he didn't want to be obvious and he's not entirely sure how to feel about seeing one again.

He caves in and reaches over for it, picking the rifle up with his right hand and checking it over as he walks to, what he assumes, is the ammunitions container, pulling it open and finding that, yes, it is. His eyes quickly scan over the various boxes and shelves before finding the one he wants, opening it and reaching inside to grab a bullet, then closing the box and the ammunitions container and walking over to the edge of the shooting range on silent, bare feet.

Clint glances over at him, arrow held between his fingers in the hand holding the bow. He raises an eyebrow after taking a look at the rifle. “Feeling nostalgic?” he asks with a small smirk.

“Maybe,” Bucky replies with a small smirk of his own, loading the bullet into the rifle and bringing it up, checking the sight momentarily before looking over at Clint, raising an eyebrow. “What do I get if I win?”

Clint blinks before glancing up to the ceiling in thought, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he looks back at Bucky. He leans in close and angles himself away from the security cameras they both know are there to mouth to him: “ _Next time we all place a bet on you and or Steve, I'll let you in on what it is so we can screw over Tony and split the money fifty-fifty._ ”

Bucky's expression goes contemplative before he gives a nod, smirking, bringing the rifle back up and and mouthing back: “ _If you win I'll let you in on one of Natasha's favorite kinks._ ”

Clint grins wide before lifting his bow and pulling the arrow back. “Deal,” he says out loud.

“Deal,” Bucky agrees, lining up his sight after a few minor adjustments while Clint does the same with his bow and arrow. If he lets his mind drift enough he can see Steve through the scope from 1943, walking around the rubble of a blown up Hydra base until Bucky's scope swoops up and he aims at a Hydra agent dressed in black aiming for Steve. He blinks and it's back to being a practice target at the other end of the long room.

“On three,” Clint says, taking aim, “One. Two. Three-” And then they're both firing in unison, arrow and bullet hitting their mark with a slightly resounding _bang_ from Bucky's old, if not the one he originally used, 1941 rifle.

Clint turns and walks over to the wall behind them, turning back towards Bucky as he presses a button that starts drawing the targets back to their end of the room.

“Really think you hit it dead center with that old rifle?” Clint asks, looking at Bucky.

Bucky scoffs, looking back down at the rifle for a moment. “I've had a lot of practice,” is all he says, looking over as the targets get closer, a slow smirk curving up his lips.

Clint notices. “You can't possibly be able to tell yet without lining them up,” he says, releasing the button once the targets have reached their end of the room.

“I can,” Bucky says, reaching up to take his own target down and hand it over to Clint as he comes over, “And you lost.”

“No way,” Clint says, grabbing the paper out of Bucky's hand and holding it up to his own. Clint's is just slightly off the center from Bucky's. “ _No way,_ ” Clint repeats a little incredulously, dropping his hands and staring at him, mouth a frown.

Bucky grins, patting Clint’s shoulder before turning and heading back over to the weapons cache, discharging the shell out of the rifle as he goes and catching it with his right hand. “Yup,” is all he says, cocky smirk back on his face as he returns the rifle to the cache and looks back at Clint. It feels a little like saying goodbye and hello to 1943. He decides to keep the bullet casing.

“Rumlow's in med lab,” Clint says almost out of nowhere after he jogs back from retrieving his arrow at the other end of the room, putting it and the bow back in the cache from where he got them.

Bucky's attention snaps back to him from where he was looking out at the city through the floor to ceiling windows. The sun's up. He stays quiet, waiting for Clint to finish.

“He was pretty messed up,” Clint says casually, and Bucky knows why he's saying it, “But Tony got him stabilized. Nat's going to pay him a visit and see if she can get him to talk in about ten minutes.”

He finally looks at Bucky and his expression is calm, but Bucky can also see the concern there, the questions. Bucky crosses his arms and Clint says, “Look, I get it, it was more than a little personal,” locking up the weapons cache and turning around to face Bucky fully, “But how Steve was after? And then that.” Clint gestures at the bruises on Bucky's body. Bucky doesn't move. “I get finding comfort and that's not the problem. Tony said Steve was...well, _normal_ after. Can't say personally since Nat and I took off ahead. But the last time something like this happened he was... _different_ , quieter, but Tony said Steve seemed to have some sort of... _clarity_ , this time, which is more than a little worrying. And when I saw him on his way out this morning he _was_ acting like nothing had happened. We're all worried about him,” Clint finishes, and Bucky can hear and see the sincerity even while Clint's watching for Bucky's response to his words.

Bucky keeps his expression impassive as he processes, trying to figure out how he should react to them. “Steve will be fine,” he settles on, and it's obvious Clint doesn't really believe him. The truth is, he's not _sure_ how Steve's going to process what happened. Sure, Steve gets it now and he's come to accept...well, _everything_ they are, but that doesn't mean he's going to be fine once that high dies down. It doesn't mean he's going to be able to live with it, with himself, in the long run. _Bucky_ doesn't know if Steve will be fine, and he won't know until the euphoria dies down and Steve starts processing things.

Clint sighs when he realizes Bucky's not going to continue, scrubbing a hand through his short hair. “We care about him, both of you- Shut up,” Clint says when Bucky gives him a mock-sappy look, “We just want him _and_ you to make it out of all this okay,” he finishes, looking at Bucky honestly.

Bucky nods after a moment and it seems to reassure Clint. What Bucky doesn't say is that he knows they care, care enough to lock Steve and him both up for their own good, and that he won't let that happen, so he keeps his thoughts to himself.

–

“Hey.”

“Hey, man,” Sam replies easily as Steve walks over and takes a seat down next to him beneath the tree, leaning back and letting the rough bark ground him as it digs into his t-shirt and hoodie-covered back.

They sit in companionable silence for a little while, Steve still a little high on a closing euphoria and last night - this morning - and Sam patient and almost content beside him. It's nice, like this.

“What's on your mind?” Sam asks without looking at him a few minutes later, and Steve leans back further against the tree, tilting his head back and closing his eyes to the morning sun shining down, letting the cold air try to cool his heated skin.

He’s quiet for a few more minutes, trying to think of how to word his thoughts while Sam waits. Steve opens his eyes after a bit, leaning his head back down to look out through the gate surrounding the park. 

“Sam, would you-” he starts and stops, cutting himself off while glancing over at the man. Sam looks as calm as ever, and only looks over when he feels Steve looking at him. “If I told you something, about me...” Steve tries again, trailing off before letting out a quiet sigh, eyes darting to the ground before looking back up at him. “I did something terrible,” Steve settles on.

He sees Sam stiffen slightly as they look at each other, must be able to pick up on something Steve's not saying with words and can tell this is different from their usual talks, more serious, riskier.

Sam nods slightly, indicating for Steve to go on at his own pace, waiting. He's so patient, always so patient, and he helps Steve, a lot. Steve feels bad for having to lie to him.

“Someone from a group, from the war, did something to me,” Steve starts, and it's not exactly a lie, even if it's not exactly the truth, “And the group this person works for are responsible for...well,” he stops, pulling his knees up and tapping his knuckles on the metal of his right leg through his pants. Sam's expression goes a little grim, but it's still open, waiting, patient. “And...more. I can't say what, it's...” Steve trails off, trying to find the right words.

“You tell me and you'll have to kill me?” Sam jokes, but Steve just looks at him and Sam's expression goes serious in record time. Steve actually might have to, if he found he couldn't trust Sam with what he wants to tell him. He doesn't know if he actually could though, now. Knows Bucky would hate having to do that to Steve, kill Sam _for_ him, because he would, Steve knows.

“Something like that,” Steve says slowly, quietly, eyes serious on Sam's, “I should probably just say that if you don't want to get involved in something like that, just tell me now and I'll stop talking.”

Sam's still watching him, looking at him seriously as he considers.

“There's...more, that I've been wanting to tell you,” Steve starts, eyes darting to the side again before looking back at Sam, “I haven't been able to be completely honest with you because of my...history, work.” And, God, history itself _is_ his work. He and Bucky both made it before the fall, then were used to help shape it after, and now they're just trying to end it all and maybe get _out_. “But I want to tell you,” he continues, voice and eyes earnest, “But you have to know it's not exactly safe to know anything about me. Really not safe. And once you do you'll most likely be in danger. My life is…’complicated’ is an understatement,” he finishes with a sigh, and Sam's expression turns grim.

Steve lets him think it over, waits as patiently as Sam has always done for him. He wasn't planning on bringing Sam into this, didn't have some orchestrated scheme planned out in his head when he opened his mouth, but he finds that he _does_ want Sam to know, wants to stop lying to him and tell him the truth. He wants to talk with Sam about things more directly, things that matter and _affect_ Steve's life. He wants to be Sam's friend, a real friend, not a half-misleading lie. To do any of this, though, means bringing Sam in on who he really is and what is going on under the surface of a 'normal city life,' and that's more than a little dangerous.

Sam's eyes have drifted up to the increasingly bare tree branches over their heads, slowly coming down to the ground before he looks back to Steve, and Steve see him half-manage to suppress a shiver at a cool, Autumn breeze.

“Let's go somewhere warm to talk?” Sam asks, and Steve nods, getting up and offering a hand down to Sam, which he takes.

“We can go back to my place,” Steve says as he pulls Sam up off the ground, glancing around briefly, “If you've decided you want to know. And I hate to say it, but even where I'm staying is dangerous,” he adds with a small wince and a grimace. Sam just nods and Steve returns it before leading the way out of the park.

–

“He won't talk,” Natasha says a little crossly as she walks into the communal room, drawing Clint and Bucky's attention away from the Tomb Raider game they're playing. Every time one of them dies they trade off, arguing about where they think there are hidden doorways and if they can kill all of the sharks in the pool of water before _the sharks_ kill _them_ , and just side seat driving in general. Natasha's got a gun in one hand and an annoyed expression on her face.

Bucky stands up with a cocky smirk while Clint pauses the game. “Give me ten minutes,” he says, placing a hand on his hip.

Natasha looks at him for a long, studious moment, eyes narrowing.

The smirk slides off Bucky's face after a moment and he lets his hand rest back at his side, standing up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. “Ten minutes, Natalia,” he repeats, and she forces her expression clear before giving a nod.

“Ten minutes,” she agrees, turning back around to lead the way while Bucky hops over the back of the couch and follows after her with a smirk aimed back at Clint for the _successful_ landing, who just rolls his eyes. “If he doesn't crack I'm getting Banner,” Natasha says as they walk.

“Oh, he'll crack,” Bucky replies, and this time his smirk is dangerous.

He asks for a knife and a gun when they reach the door to the room Rumlow's being held in, knows Natalia always carries at least three knives on her at nearly all times and two guns, so she has some she can spare. She hands them to him with a slightly raised brow. Bucky takes them, opens the door, and walks in.

Rumlow's cuffed to a chair in the middle of the room with cuffs Tony must have designed, because while they're similar in size and shape to regular cuffs, they're high tech and a little larger, and look like they're a bitch to try and get out of. The room itself is a cleared out storage closet, but a storage closet in Avengers Tower is roughly the size of Steve and Bucky's old apartment living room, so it makes a great temporary holding room.

Rumlow's eyes lazily drag themselves over to him, a little slow from the condition he's in, but no more than that. He's bandaged up and he looks terrible, still twitching occasionally from the electrical overload from the knives Steve had used on him, and pale because of blood loss. Tony and Natasha must have done enough to get him conscious and keep him from dying, and little else. But that's fine, it's more than enough for Bucky to work with.

He closes the door softly behind him, eyes on Rumlow as Bucky slowly prowls his way over, knife held loosely in one hand and gun in the other. He watches Rumlow watch him, sees his eyes take in the bruises, boxers, knife, and gun, and manages to sneer and smirk at Bucky at the same time.

“Like what you see,” Bucky says with a raised brow and a smirk, bringing the gun up to pull the hammer back with his teeth. In all honestly, all he really wants to do is cross the rest of the way to that chair and plunge Natalia’s knife deep into his throat, but they need information, _really_ need information, so Bucky reins in the urge and somehow manages to keep himself in check.

Rumlow scoffs quietly, sneer winning the war for dominance over his face. “Fucking Rogers,” he says more than asks, eyes going back up to Bucky's after stopping at the bruise sucked onto his neck. Rumlow’s voice is quiet and scratchy, “I'd say I was surprised if I hadn't read enough of your files. You two have practically been fucking since before they picked your bodies up in those mountains.”

His expression goes cruel and Bucky forces his own to stay calm, nonchalant even. He's trying to get a rise out of Bucky and Bucky can't afford for it to work, not yet.

Bucky comes a little closer, moving to the right to lean his back against the wall, crossing his arms over his bare chest while still holding the knife and gun, eyes on Rumlow the whole time. “I didn't come here to talk about Steve,” he says neutrally.

“No?” Rumlow asks, smirk coming back to his mouth, “Even after I turned him into my own personal little play thing?”

Bucky doesn't tense even though he wants to, keeps his expression just as calm as it's been since he walked in through the door.

“Well, if you didn't fuck him when you were _actually_ in your twenties, who's to say I wasn't the first?” Rumlow asks, and Bucky's eyes narrow slightly, not quite understanding where he's going with this. Rumlow's smirk widens, leering at Bucky. “You were both put in that chair _several_ times,” he continues, turning his head a little to get a better look at Bucky, at his reaction, “Who's to say we didn't have a little fun before we took it all away again?”

This time Bucky does tense slightly before he forces himself to relax, doesn't want to betray the picked up rate of his heartbeat. “Impossible,” he says flatly, eyes on Rumlow, “We got our memories back, all of them. Steve would know.”

Rumlow makes a neutral noise in the back of his throat, looking to the wall opposite Bucky in mock-thought before looking back to him. “Maybe. Who's to say he'd tell you.”

Bucky scoffs, because that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard. “He tells me everything,” he replies.

Rumlow raises an eyebrow, smirk back on his face. “But would he tell you that?” he asks, and the hairs on the back of Bucky's neck stand on end, “Why would he tell you, of all... _people_ about something like that, when you're the _only_ thing he has,” Rumlow finishes in mock sweetness, a cruel smirk back on his face.

Bucky runs over his thoughts quickly, over the scenarios. 

_Could_ something have happened to Steve? He knows this is just distraction. Rumlow either wants to buy as much time as he can - even if it's futile on his part - or enrage Bucky enough to kill him so he's no longer capable of giving information away, but the idea is planted now and Bucky can't get it out of his head. But Steve would have reacted last night or this morning if something like that had happened, wouldn't have let Bucky touch him like that if he remembered something. Wouldn’t he?

Bucky forces the thoughts aside, focuses, because this needs to be done, and the sooner it is the sooner he can go find Steve and actually figure out if Rumlow's really lying or not.

He taps the blade of the knife lightly against his bicep before he steps away from the wall, uncrossing his arms and coming in close to lean over Rumlow in the chair. “You have four minutes,” Bucky says calmly, leaning down close, “I will make them the longest four minutes of the rest of your life if you don't tell me what you know. And trust me when I say Lukin wished I'd killed him instead, and he only had two,” The Winter Soldier finishes quietly, flipping the knife once. 

Rumlow swallows as he follows the knife, staring up at him after, which means he's heard of what happened to Lukin then, probably from an autopsy, maybe from a hidden security camera, it's hard to say and doesn't really matter. Point is, he knows what's in store for him if he makes Bucky wait, and Bucky can see the fear in his eyes at that. For all Hydra preaches about “order through pain,” when it comes down to it, very few actually stick to those words.

Rumlow presses his mouth into a firm line, expression going defiant.

Bucky lets out a quiet sigh, drawing the knife up. “I won't oppose this option,” he says quietly, icy eyes sliding up the blade before meeting Rumlow's again, “I _was_ going to offer a quicker death if you cooperated,” he finishes, making a small motion with the gun.

Rumlow just takes a deep breath to brace himself, and The Winter Soldier brings down the knife.

In the end, Rumlow talks after two minutes of The Winter Soldier carving him up. He makes light, papercut-like cuts in all of the places where Rumlow's now mostly bare skin rubs against the chair or cuffs, torturous where dozens of them rub against the chair with the slightest movements. He also ends up slicing Rumlow's right ear off and giving him a variety of slowly done, meticulous 'piercings' he saw on tv the other night when he was flipping through channels. Bucky's about to take Rumlow's eyelids when the man finally falters, and it's only when Bucky's shifted the blade down to his crotch instead, cut through the material of his pants and boxers to make a light cut on the shaft of his dick that Rumlow finally spills the information.

“Christmas,” Rumlow says, with a look that's slightly wild and mixed with defeat, “Targeting system. Millions of possible threats wiped out in an instant and Hydra will usher in a new era and have _Happy New Year_ ,” he finishes with a slightly wild grin.

Bucky stares down at him for a long moment, facts absorbed, while Rumlow stares back, eyes going defiant again. “Well, I told you, so get on with it,” he says a little impatiently after a minute, head nodding towards the gun. But Bucky just stares down at him for a another moment before glancing at the knife, lifting it up to look at it in the light.

“Who said I was just going to kill you when you told me,” The Winter Soldier says quietly, lowering the knife out of the lights overhead as he looks down at Rumlow's slightly stricken face.

“But you said-” Rumlow starts, and Bucky moves quick, presses the blade against the hollow of his throat, eyes darting to it briefly before looking back up at Rumlow.

“I lied. You should be used to it considering who you work for,” Bucky replies, leaning over him, “Now, I distinctly remember a turning fork, Steve losing his right leg,” Bucky continues lowly after a moment, expression going mockingly thoughtful as he adds, “And, oh yeah, what was that you were saying earlier about fucking Steve?”

He uses the remaining three minutes to make Rumlow scream, his ' _Hail Hydra_ ' attempts coming only half-choked out, and it soothes a broken, horrible part of him deep down inside.

He opens the door and leaves the room exactly three minutes later, walls and floor streaked in red and the sounds of Rumlow choking on his own blood in the silence, Bucky getting blood on the door handle when he opens it. Rumlow will be dead in thirty seconds.

Natasha gives him one look, at the blood soaking his hand up to his right wrist, knife and all, at the slightly manic but icy look in his eyes, and steps into the room after he goes.

The Winter Soldier walks down the hall.

–

“You live here,” Sam says flatly, staring up at the Tower a little blankly, “Avengers Tower. _You live_ _here_.”

Steve looks up at the building as well, trying to see what Sam does, but all he sees is a lot of glass and metal and more money than he ever even knew was possible back when he and Bucky were sharing a much smaller apartment than the one they currently are. He sees a future he doesn't quite fit into, slightly offbeat and diagonally out of the picture, a temporary safe haven in the mess that has become his and Bucky's lives. 

He looks back to Sam.

“Yes,” he says simply, noting the increasing incredulity in Sam's expression before he turns and leads the way inside. Sam follows a few steps behind, letting out a low whistle inside of the giant lobby.

They both step into the elevator after Sam gives an appreciative smile to the secretary behind the lobby desk (who returns it) and the doors close.

“ _Welcome back, Steve_ ,” JARVIS says from some point above them, “ _And hello, Mr. Wilson._ ” Sam jumps, eyes darting around before he does a full, three-sixty degree turn, looking for the source of the voice.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Steve says, trying and failing to hide a smile. Sam just raises his eyebrows at him.

“Hey, you were freaked at first too, I'm sure,” Sam says, pointing at Steve, who only grins wider.

“ _Mr. Wilson has been authorized to go to the higher level floors_ ,” JARVIS says calmly, and Steve looks back up towards the ceiling, surprised.

“Already?” he asks, blinking.

“ _Of course_ ,” JARVIS replies without further elaboration. Tony must have decided it after Bucky had ran through Sam's files.

The elevator stops at the communal floor and they both step out, Steve leading the way down the hall and out into the room itself while Sam's wide eyes dart around, Steve’s ears picking up the sound of water running in the kitchen.

It's Bucky.

“Oh,” Bucky says, sounding surprised as he turns around. He's got blood up to his right wrist and a knife in the same hand, and he's wearing Steve's boxers. Steve feels a cross between wanting to say he looks like something right out of one of the horror movies Thor had picked for movie night, and wanting to freeze up because Sam is _right next to him_ and _this_ part of his life is _too soon_. “I didn't know you were bringing company,” Bucky finishes calmly, expression schooling into something crossed between boredom and blank, eyes landing on Sam.

Steve feels Sam stiffen next to him and looks over to see his eyes are a little wider, slowly shifting between Bucky and the bloody knife.

Bucky leans back against the counter, casual as can be, water still running in the sink right behind him. “Welcome back,” he says, eyes landing on Steve next. Steve can see the ice in them.


	15. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sex and Rumlow's implied shit.

Steve looks back at Bucky, tries to read what's in his eyes beyond the ice, but there's too much there for the short look they share before Bucky's eyes are back on Sam as he reaches back behind himself to put the knife and his hand under the water, rinsing away the blood while he carefully sets the gun down on the counter.

Sam, to his credit, doesn't move, but Steve's not sure if that's because he feels like a deer in headlights and that running would be a terrible idea, or if he really is calm enough to handle this and still wants to know more about Steve.

Either way, Steve decides to break the tension.

“Bucky, what happened?” Steve asks, trying to keep his voice light enough to be any level of comforting to their guest, calm to keep Sam from being spooked, and a little firm because right now really isn't the best time for Bucky to be wandering around in- “Are those my boxers you're parading around in?” he asks incredulously, eyes darting from the boxers up to Bucky's face.

Bucky purses his lips for a long moment before turning around to face the sink, pumping some soap into his free hand to fully clean the blood off his skin and the knife before shutting the water off and turning back around, setting the now clean knife on the side of the sink next to the gun.

“So his name isn't 'Mark',” Sam finally says, and Steve's attention snaps to him.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says first, and means it. Sam just looks at him with a small, knowing smile. It's a little strained at the edges and uncomfortable, but it's a smile all the same. Steve relaxes slightly.

“Nah, I knew it couldn't be 'Mark',” Sam starts, and Steve can practically feel Bucky tensing from across the kitchen, “Just as I knew you couldn't be 'Josh’, not after the third time we met.”

Steve blinks for a moment before sagging slightly, reaching up to pull the glasses and hat off and run a hand up over his face and through his hair. “You knew who I was,” he says more than asks, and Sam's smile widens a little more before his eyes dart to Bucky and it goes a little strained again. Sam raises his hands in Bucky's direction, and Steve finally looks to see Bucky's picked up the knife again and is drying it with a towel, _very_ _thoroughly_.

“Yeah, I did,” Sam replies, glancing back to Steve, “It wasn't hard to figure after I got a better look at you. But it _was_ hard keeping it to myself. I mean. _You_. _**Here**_. I don't know how it's possible and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, _and_ you,” Sam adds as he looks back to Bucky. Bucky's still watching him, face blank as he slows his drying to a halt. Steve sees Sam swallow. “I haven't said anything, I'm sure you'd know by now if I had since you're apparently living _here_ ,” Sam says, gesturing around the room briefly with his still raised hands to indicate the Tower, “And I don't know what you're running from. And the last time I checked, neither James Barnes nor Steve Rogers had metal limbs, so I can't even begin to guess what happened. But know that I won't tell anyone, on pain of death or not, I don't rat out my friends,” he finishes firmly, looking to both of them. Because he _is_ a friend to both of them, even if Bucky likes to give Steve grief over Steve knowing him at all. Steve knows better.

Bucky raises an eyebrow slightly before looking at Steve. Steve looks back at him for a long moment before letting out a breath and giving a small nod. Bucky's face pinches slightly but he sets the knife back down, walking over to them and running his now clean hand through Steve's hair, messing it up in way he likes rather than how Steve had it, and Steve lets him, smiling slightly.

Bucky looks back over at Sam, who's watching them both with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty, keeping just how uncertain he is held down well.

“I hope you realize just how much shit you're now in,” Bucky says, raising both eyebrows at Sam. Steve can tell he's trying to keep down an internal struggle, and his initial response to immobilize Sam. He’s beyond grateful that Bucky's putting in the effort at all.

Sam lets out something like a cross between a slightly hysterical sigh and a relieved breath, finally lowering his hands. “I don't think I do, not fully. But _Steve_ ,” Sam says with emphasis, grinning a little in Steve's direction. Steve cracks a smile. “Tried to warn me. Knowing who you are though, I get the feeling this rabbit hole is going to go pretty deep,” he says, mouth going into a grim line.

Bucky's expression hardens for a moment before he forces it to smooth out, going blank again as he says flatly, “I just killed the man who turned Steve into his own personal puppet and who I was also holding account for Steve having to lose his leg. That was his blood.” And Steve feels Sam tense again at almost the same moment he does, though for different reasons. Bucky's all or nothing approach to other aspects of their lives than missions, Steve thinks, might go better if he approached them with the kind of planning and structure that he uses to take out targets. Tact may have been better, rather than going all out and telling Sam that. Steve can't say he's any better though, sometimes.

Still, testing Sam by throwing him bodily in the lake of their lives might not be the best approach.

Steve's head quickly turns to Bucky, catching his eyes. “Rumlow's dead?” he asks, tone oddly blank. There's too much to feel and he can't focus on just one emotion.

Bucky's expression shifts for a moment, letting through enough of his actual emotions for Steve to clearly see as he gives a nod, reaching over hesitantly to touch the back of Steve's hand with his own metal one. “He is,” Bucky confirms, voice a little softer, “And he said some things I need to ask you about.” He glances over at Sam quickly before looking back to Steve. “Later. Alone.”

Steve nods almost numbly before he gives himself a shake, looking back over at Sam who's gone a little pale, and is staring at Bucky like he sees him now, in a new, different light.

“We should sit,” Steve says a little quietly, and Sam finally looks at him, giving a small nod before Steve leads the way over to the long table on the other side of the kitchen bar, taking a seat at the head of it and resting his hands on top, Bucky taking a seat on his left, Sam on his right.

“In 1944, Captain America and the Howling Commandos were sent on a mission to capture a German scientist named Arnim Zola,” Steve starts, looking over at Sam to see his eyes are locked on him, “During the mission, Bucky and I were fighting a Hydra agent and the train car ended up getting blown open. Bucky was blasted out and left gripping onto a failing railing. I took down the Hydra agent and climbed out after him.” 

He feels Bucky take his right hand with his metal one and lets out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them back up. He looks at Bucky for a long moment, waiting for Bucky to nod before he goes on, because this is not just his story he is telling. 

He looks back over at Sam. “Bucky fell,” he continues, voice quiet, “And I fell after him.”

–

The story takes a while to tell, and by the end of it Sam's leaned back in his chair, staring at the top of the table with a shocked, overwhelmed expression on his face. Bucky's hand is still holding onto Steve's, grip tighter than when they started.

It felt good to say all of it, if painful, like ripping a bandaid off to let something start to heal, even if it is a long time overdue. And it was nice telling someone who didn't already know, someone he also thinks he's, surprisingly, come to trust.

“Are you alright?” Steve asks quietly, leaning his head down slightly to try and catch Sam's gaze.

Sam looks up at him at the sound of his voice, letting out a sigh as he finally sits up and runs a hand over his hair, eyes going back to stare down at the table. “I'll admit, it's a lot to take in. When you...hinted at things, I never expected it to be like that,” he says quietly, eyes staying on the table for long few moments before finally looking up, glancing between Bucky and Steve. “I'm glad you finally told me,” he says, focusing on Steve, “I'm glad you feel like you can _trust_ me enough to tell me. And before you start, I'm not going to say anything,” he adds, cutting off Bucky's words.

Bucky closes his mouth into a firm line, watching Sam closely. “I think you might understand when I say I don't trust that,” he says lowly.

Sam gives a nod before crossing his forearms on top of the table, looking between them again. “Yeah, I do. And I think I'm starting to get just how messed up this thing between you two is,” he replies a little jokingly, cracking a small smile.

Steve blinks before huffing a breath, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah,” he says, looking over at Bucky, who stares at Sam for a little longer before looking back. “But it's really not _too_ bad,” Steve finishes quietly, teasingly. Bucky cracks a smirk, tilting his head slightly at Steve ( _yeah?_ )

Steve nods slightly, squeezing his metal hand gently ( _yeah_ ).

Sam huffs a breath before Tony cuts in, “You two are gross and ridiculous; get a room,” coming over and plopping down at the other end of the table. “Wait, never mind, I gave you one. If you're going to be all lovey dovey, go there.”

Sam and Steve both sit up as they all look over, Tony staring back, unimpressed, before his eyes finally light on Sam. “Hey!” he says, leaning over the table, “Welcome to the secret club. Nice to finally have someone _normal_ join the party.”

Sam blinks and then snorts while Steve rolls his eyes, Bucky raising an eyebrow. “ _You're_ normal,” Bucky says, “Albeit still a smartass.” He smirks.

Tony scoffs, turning his chair from side to side. “I am not. I'm a genius. Not normal,” he replies, “Anyway. Now that Wilybird is in on this and you got the information out of Rumlow. Or, I guess, _The Winter Soldier_ got the information out of Rumlow, what do we plan to do?”

“You could start be finishing cleaning out the mess of that room he was being kept in,” Natasha chimes in calmly as she approaches the table, taking a seat to Sam's right that pleases him far too much. Steve tries to hold back a grin.

“ _Ew_. No,” Tony replies easily, even though Steve can see the slight horror there in his eyes, “ _Barnes_ is the one who made this mess and _you_ are _his_ ex-KGB girlfriend,” he says before pointing at Bucky, “That's _your_ thing.”

Natasha rolls her eyes and even that she manages to do just as gracefully as she does everything else, gaze landing on Steve.

Sam makes a quiet choking sound at the ‘girlfriend’ statement.

“So,” Bucky cuts in as she and Steve communicate wordlessly. Steve wants to know what happened with Rumlow, exactly, and what specifically Bucky wants to talk to him about, but now isn't the time and she's not quite willing to tell. “Christmas. I guess I don't have to get anything for you this year,” Bucky says with a loose grin at Steve, “Well, except maybe some more lube.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says at the same time Natasha chides with a, “ _James_.”

“Sergeant James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Winter Soldier Barnes,” Tony says in a slight rush, earning a few confused looks from Steve, Bucky, and Natasha, and a snort from Sam.

“What?” Tony asks, looking around at the four of them, “Have you not seen _Shrek_? Did we not cover that? We're watching that tonight and I will not hear any arguments,” Tony says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest, “Just trust me, it will _all make sense_.”

Steve, Bucky, and Natasha all manage to roll their eyes at the same time. Sam laughs.

“You're invited too Sam Falcon,” Tony says with a secretive grin, Sam going silent in surprise.

“How did you- You _know_ about that?” he asks, incredulous, _surprised_.

Tony clucks his tongue, leaning back in his chair. “Of course I know. I knew about five seconds after Steve came back from meeting you and Barnes here pulled up your life on every file possible,” he answers with a jerk of his thumb at Bucky before lacing his fingers over his stomach, “And I gotta say, you would be handy to have in this fight we seem to be gearing up for.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says sternly, eyes darting between him and Sam, not sure what they're talking about but unwilling to force Sam into their battle. He's already ruined his life enough by telling him about _Steve and Bucky alone_. Sam's eyes are back on Bucky for the moment, and again Steve can see him looking at him in a whole new way. He's not sure if he should be worried.

“What?” Tony asks again, raising his hands in mock surrender, “He would. And trust me when I say we could use all of the help we can get. This isn't going to be a walk in the park,” he says with a playful grin before his expression turns serious, hands coming down to rest his fingers on the table. “This is going to be big, _very_ big, and if it's happening on Christmas? _Huge_. We _are_ going to need all the help we can get.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment before Sam finally clears his throat, drawing Steve's focus away.

“Maybe I haven't been telling you everything either,” Sam says carefully, and Steve's brows draw together, “Though, honestly, if we're comparing histories, it's really not that big of a deal in comparison,” he says jokingly, giving Steve a small grin.

Steve's lips twitch and he shifts his chair a little closer to Bucky's, watching Sam. “Well, since we're clearing the air,” Steve prompts a little sarcastically, eyebrows raising slightly.

Sam's grin grows a little more before he sits forward, resting his forearms back on top of the table. “Well, since that's the case,” he replies just as sarcastically, expression turning a little more serious after a moment, but still holding some of that light mood in his eyes, “Let me tell you about _Operation Falcon_.”

It turns out, ' _Operation Falcon_ ,' is...unique, simply put. A military pararescue program utilizing flight equipment that, well, is not exactly like Tony's Iron Man suit, but that's as close a reference as any of them have for it. And, Tony was right, Sam _would_ be handy to have in their upcoming fight, but Steve's not going to ask Sam to help them. He wouldn't do that to anyone he liked.

Clint showed up at some point during Sam's explanation of the program, sitting next to Natasha, who quietly filled him in on what they've been talking about. Now everyone's caught up.

“Any word from Fury?” Tony asks Clint, eyebrows raised.

Clint sits up straighter from where he'd hunched over to rest his arms on the table while Natasha raises an eyebrow. “I was just about to go meet with him, actually,” Clint replies, “I'll fill him in on what we now know. Hopefully he'll have the missing pieces on this ' _Project Insight_ ' so we can start to prepare.” He gets up out of his chair and leans over a little behind Natasha, holding his fist out to Sam. “Welcome to the bird-jokes-club, man,” he says, grinning when Sam snorts and bumps his fist against Clint's.

Clint heads off for the elevator while shouting back, “And _put some fucking pants on Barnes!_ _This isn't the playboy mansion!_ ”

Bucky lets out a loud snort before yelling back, “Ha! They'd be lucky to have me!”

Natasha huffs a breath while fondly rolling her eyes. Steve smirks slightly while Sam snorts and Tony yells in Clint's direction, “Hey! Me too! If it weren't for Pepper this would practically _be_ the Playboy Mansion!”

They hear Clint laugh as he steps into the elevator.

–

Steve talks with Sam some more after everyone scatters, Tony going back to his workroom and Bucky going back into the kitchen to pick up the knife and gun he left on the counter while he watches the two. He can hear Sam telling Steve he's, “ _Sorry for what happened to you, but man, you're handling it amazingly well_.” And he can hear Steve say he, “ _Hasn't been handling it well, actually, but he thinks it might finally be starting to get better with Bucky and Natasha's help, and Sam's_.”

Bucky continues to listen as he flips the knife idly in his left hand, ears also picking up the sound of familiar footsteps and feels the air displacement of someone coming to stand next to him. He flips the knife up one more time and lets his hand drop to his side while it's in mid-spin. Natasha catches it where his hand would have on its way down.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind,” she says quietly, watching Steve and Sam with him, “Or maybe just one thing. I don't know what Rumlow said, but if I had to place bets, I would place them on him lying.”

Bucky lets out a quiet breath, shifting slightly, gun still in his right hand. “The problem is I can't know for sure, not until I talk to Steve myself,” he says just as quiet, sees Steve shift slightly to let Bucky know he's listening.

“Mm,” Natasha says softly, finally turning her head to look at him. He turns his own to look back. “Jealous, too?” she asks playfully, eyes flicking down to his boxers before darting back up to his face, “He did notice, but not for very long I bet. You didn't get to seduce him like you planned.” She smirks.

Bucky frowns, almost bordering on a pout. He hears Steve stumble over a word briefly and tries to suppress a smirk. His lips twitch anyway. “Maybe not,” he replies, letting out a dramatic sigh as he moves to walk around her, lifting the gun for her to take as he does, “Doesn't mean I won't try again as soon as we're alone.”

He can't stop the smirk that finally spreads across his face when he sees Steve turn his head in his direction in his periphery, glancing back at him as he heads for the elevator. Steve's cheeks go a little red before he looks back at Sam and Bucky's smirk widens.

He gets to Steve's apartment and plops down on the couch, waiting. He has JARVIS track Sam while he does, still not trusting how things went. It was too easy, too convenient, even if it might have been true he _can't_ trust it, not yet. He wants Steve to have Sam as a friend, he does, and even Bucky likes the guy enough to maybe call him something near ‘friend’ himself, but the amount of people he trusts is approximately two, and one of them is himself.

Steve opens the door about twenty minutes later, and Bucky's about to stand up before he thinks better of it and stays seated. If something _did_ happen to Steve like Rumlow had suggested, he doesn't want to be confrontational in any way. Better he stay in a position of submission, lower than Steve, than one capable of overpowering him.

He can tell Steve's picked up on his mood, and as soon as the door's closed, Steve comes over, stopping a few feet away from the couch where Bucky is. “What did Rumlow say,” Steve says more than asks, eyebrows drawn together slightly.

Bucky looks up at him for a few moments before letting out a breath, setting his hands on the top of his thighs in plain sight. “He... _implied_ that him and his team may have... _done_ things to you, that they made you forget before we were caught by S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he says quietly, voice a little strained, “And it's not entirely impossible. In fact it's _laughably_ possible. You were asleep more than I was, sure, but we weren't always awake at the same time. They could have...done something to you, and I would never know, maybe even _with_ our memories back.” Bucky leaves the implication hanging in the air, can see Steve stiffen slightly as Steve watches him.

“You think...if something did happen, I didn't say anything,” Steve says, trying to sort out his thoughts and piece together Bucky's, voice going a little hard at _Bucky’s_ implication, that he wouldn’t say anything.

Bucky sighs, looking back up at Steve. “I don't know, honestly, I don't,” he replies says quietly, reasonably, “That's...different, Steve, and I don't know if you'd tell me - or if you'd even _want_ to tell me - if something like that did happen, and you remember.”

Steve watches him for a long moment, expression contemplative and hard, and it's ruining Bucky's already frayed nerves.

“And if you did, and we did what we did last night - _this morning_?” Bucky continues, bringing his hands up to scrub at his face briefly before pushing his hair back, letting his hands drop down into his lap and looking back up at Steve, “Then I am _so fucking sorry_.”

Steve's expression smooths out at that, going soft around the edges as he looks down at him.

Steve steps forward after a moment, coming to stand between Bucky's legs before lowering slowly, gracefully to kneel down between them. He leans forward soon after to catch Bucky's hands with his own and rest his forearms on the tops of Bucky's thighs. “Hey,” he says quietly when Bucky looks away, eyes drawn back to Steve's like they always are, “ _Nothing happened_ , Buck. Honestly. This time Rumlow was lying. I'm fine, I'm alright, and you haven't _done_ _anything_ _to hurt me_.”

Bucky stares down at him for a minute, eyes darting between each of Steve's, trying to read him. He doesn't find any lies there, not even white ones, and he relaxes fractionally, but needs to have it confirmed. “Yeah?” he asks quieter, softer.

Steve's expression softens further, thumbs rubbing the backs of Bucky's hands gently, both metal and flesh. “Yeah,” Steve confirms, voice just as quiet, just as soft.

Bucky's still for a few moments before he leans down quickly and Steve leans up. The kiss is gentle and sweet, though, a fragile thing shared between two men and monsters. He doesn't know what he'd do if Steve _had_ said it had happened, probably burn the whole damn world to the ground, for himself _as much_ as Steve, because just imagining it _alone_ is close to one of the worst things he's ever had to think about, to feel.

They both pull back a little and stare at each other, just let their eyes wander over one another for a while and breathe in the same space.

“Speaking of...” Steve trails off quietly, and Bucky blinks, leaning back, pulled out of his trance. Steve's fingers carefully slide out of Bucky's grip and move over, grab the top of his own underwear on Bucky’s hips and pull the edge down. “I was actually hoping we could do it again,” Steve says quietly, eyes staying on Bucky's as he leans down, and Bucky's eyes stay on his, even as Steve swallows him down and he loses himself in the tight heat of Steve's mouth. He'll always have ice in him, but Steve makes him feel like he's burning alive from the inside out.

–

Bucky wakes on the floor of the bedroom at-

He glances up groggily at the digital clock on the nightstand-

Four hours later, turning his head back around to see Steve curled up next to him, a small trail of drool coming out of the corner of his mouth and hair a wild wreck, bruises on his neck, collarbone, hips, and shoulders, sunlight slanted across his right shoulder and looking like a thoroughly fucked mess. Bucky doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

Bucky groans quietly as he stretches before leaning over to press a quick, light kiss to Steve's forehead, who only stirs slightly before rolling over onto his back, still asleep. Bucky smiles something that feels small and warm before pushing himself up off the floor and grabbing the two condoms off of it as he heads for the bathroom.

He ends up naked in the kitchen afterwards and Steve comes out while he's in the middle of pulling ingredients for omelets out of the fridge, plopping just as naked on the couch and turning the tv on low after giving Bucky a warm smile. Bucky just grins before rifling through a drawer in the fridge, pulling out the green onions and closing the door with his bruised hip behind him. After setting them on the counter with the rest of the ingredients and pulling out a pan, he scans over the countertop looking for a knife, pulling open a few drawers as he goes.

“Where the fuck...” he trails off in a quiet grumble to himself, not finding any knives.

He can feel a prickle on the side of his face that lets him know Steve's watching him as he continues to look for the knives, grabbing a butter knife out of a drawer when he can't find one as sharp as he needs. He holds it up in front of his face, staring at it for a long moment before throwing it back into the drawer and slamming the drawer shut.

“I need a fucking _knife_ , not a butter smearer,” he growls. He hears Steve let out a quiet snort and his head snaps over. Steve's got a hand pressed over his mouth, eyes a little wide, shaking with barely contained laughter while tears build up in corners of his eyes from trying to suppress it.

“ _TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW_.” Bucky points at him and Steve finally bursts out laughing, doubling over on the couch. “Steve!” he demands, still pointing.

Steve takes a few deep breaths to try and settle himself down before shaking his head, holding up his hands. “Nope. This is all you, Buck,” he says unhelpfully, wiping at his eyes after.

Bucky narrows his own eyes before he starts moving slowly, making his way across the kitchen towards the couch with a predatory grace. “ _Steve_ ,” he says lowly, quietly, expression as serious as the ones he uses on missions, slowly closing in on the back of the couch.

Steve bites his lower lip, face going a little red as he tries to hold his laughter in. “ _Bucky_ ,” he manages to get out, barely contained laughter in his voice.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says again, only five feet away.

Steve shakes his head quickly, miming sealing his lips shut.

Bucky's eyes narrow a little further as he stops three feet from the couch, staring at Steve who's slowly losing control and shaking with laughter again. Bucky suddenly leaps the three feet and over the back of it and Steve lets out a loud shout as Bucky lands on him, bursting into laughter again as Bucky darts his hands in and tickles Steve's sides.

“ _Where are the knives_ ,” Bucky demands with a smirk, slowly turning into a grin.

“Bucky, _no_ \- _I can't_ -” Steve gets out between laughs, writhing on the couch as Bucky attacks his squirming sides.

“ _You_ _can_ ,” Bucky insists, grinning now with the sounds of Steve's laughter.

Steve squirms on the couch under the onslaught, laughing the most Bucky's heard from him in years.

Needless to say, they don't get around to breakfast until an hour or so after that.

The knives were on the counter the whole time, Steve ends up pointing out, Bucky just overlooked them.

Bucky attacks him with tickling again and Steve laughs like he's fourteen again and Bucky grins wide like he's twelve, except this time without missing any teeth.

–

They both head up to the communal room after they eat and take a very, very long shower together, only feeling slightly bad about the waste of water.

Bucky's sat on the couch playing a game with Clint while Steve makes tea in the kitchen, smiling at the sounds of their arguments from the tv area. Natasha joins him as soon as she walks into the room from the hall, nodding her head towards Steve's tea as she crosses the space.

Steve reaches over after she does and pulls open the container of tea, scooping out enough for another cup while he reaches up and pulls another mug out of the cupboard above his head, sliding his own mug of tea towards Natasha as soon as she comes to a stop at the counter next to him. He heads back over to the tea maker set next to the sink and turns the faucet on, filling the tea maker with enough water for one cup before sliding it back into its place and dumping the tea into the top strainer, turning the whole thing on.

He turns back around to find Natasha taking an appreciative sip of the tea, eyes closed and expression serene. Steve smiles softly as she opens her eyes and returns it, both of their attentions pulled back to the tv area as Clint lets out a shout.

“Barnes! No! Let go!” Clint yells, Bucky's metal hand gripping Clint's right arm while his right reaches for the controller.

“It's my turn!” Bucky yells back, getting a grip on the controller, but Clint won't let go, “You died!”

“Dinosaurs don't count! _They don't count!_ ” Clint shouts back, pulling on the controller while trying to dislodge Bucky's grip on his arm.

“They do too you fucker!” Bucky shouts, pulling back on the controller, “Give it up!”

“Fuck you!” Clint yells back, both of their teeth gritted as the both tug.

Natasha looks back at Steve, expression going from amused at them to thoughtful at him as she eyes him and he stares back. She tilts her head slightly to the side in Bucky and Clint's direction, eyebrow raised in question as she brings a finger to her bottom lip.

Steve raises his eyebrows in his own question before she sets her mug down on the long kitchen counter, motioning him over with the finger she had placed on her bottom lip.

His eyes dart over to Bucky for a moment, who's now got Clint in something similar to a chokehold, Clint's legs flailing and kicking at the back of the couch as he struggles to get out of it. Steve looks back to her, closing the distance between them after a moment.

Natasha quirks a small, pleased smile before she reaches up, gently resting her left hand on the side of his neck and raising an eyebrow slightly in question.

Steve blinks, getting it, before grinning a little and giving a small nod. Her smile spreads a little further before she leans up and he leans down, both closing their eyes as their lips meet. He can hear Bucky and Clint arguing and the tea maker on its cycle; it'll be done in a few minutes.

Her lips are soft, softer than Bucky's and fuller, and she tastes faintly of mint and stronger of the tea she had just been drinking. He brings his left hand up to card gently through her bright hair, right hand coming up to grip her waist equally gently and pull her in a little closer as she squeezes the side of his neck slightly in suggestion. He complies, angling his head to the side so she can get a better angle, noses bumping slightly as he does.

The sounds coming from the tv area slowly die down and Steve and Natasha both crack their eyes open slightly to look, just enough to see Clint and Bucky both staring at them, dumbstruck.

Steve lets out a quiet moan just to see how Bucky will react and watches Bucky's mouth drop open, pupils dilating while Steve presses his body more tightly to Natasha's, her right hand coming up to rest on his hip and pull him in just that bit closer.

They both watch Clint shake himself out of it at the sound, eyes darting over to Bucky briefly before he pulls himself out of the lock Bucky had him in, prying the controller out of Bucky's hand without resistance and going back to the game. Bucky doesn't even react, eyes locked on Steve and Natasha as they continue to kiss, Natasha pulling back just slightly, just enough so Bucky can see when their tongues meet between their mouths.

Steve hears Bucky's breath catch and tries to hold back a smirk, can tell Natasha is, too. Clint doesn't bother hiding his own as he looks back briefly over his shoulder at them and then at Bucky, smirk widening into a grin like the mouse that got the cheese.

Natasha pulls back after another minute and the tea maker chimes done. They slide their hands off of each other as she turns to pick up her mug and Steve heads over to turn the tea maker off and pour some into his own like nothing happened.

Bucky lets out a quiet whimper as both Natasha and Steve leave the room, jolting against the back of the couch like he wants to leap over it and follow. They share grins out of sight as they head down the hall to the elevator.

Bucky doesn't have many weaknesses, but they both just found another one.


	16. I Feel Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgoEptzXoeo
> 
> The first song Bucky's singing to; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vxchPg3Ty9s
> 
> The song they dance to; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lnmY2srJ6uI
> 
> The second song Bucky's singing to; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBeDEfJAn_g
> 
> The song on Bucky's iPod; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8DzY2gNMrQ

“Fucking _Barton_ ,” Bucky lets out as they pant, both sprawled out naked in the still empty entertainment room of Steve's apartment, large, floor to ceiling windows dimmed down above their heads.

Steve turns his head to the left to look over at Bucky, raising an eyebrow. “But you just fucked me,” he says as seriously as he can, lips twitching after a moment.

Bucky's eyes dart to him before he lets out a huff that quickly turns into a low laugh, shoving at Steve's left shoulder with his hand before sitting up. “You know damn well what I'm talking about,” Bucky says, sitting cross legged on the wood floor, “Him and his unholy alliance with _Natalia_ ,” Bucky grumbles.

Steve grins to himself, closing his eyes halfway as he watches Bucky. “Mmhmm,” he hums lowly, shifting his left leg to brush it lightly against Bucky's right one to catch his attention, arching his back in a long stretch while bringing his arms up above his head as Bucky turns his head to look, blue-gray eyes roaming over him, “Because _that's_ what's important right now.”

Bucky's eyes slowly trail up the length of his body, pupils dilated by the time they finally and on Steve's. “ _Fuck_ , Steve,” he says quietly.

“I wouldn't mind, again,” Steve replies mock-coyly. He's been spending too much time with Natasha.

“You've been spending too much time with Natalia,” Bucky says like he can read Steve's mind, and Steve lets out a laugh, resting his back back onto the floor and bringing his arms down to rest his hands on top of his stomach.

“You love it when I spend time with _Natalia_ ,” Steve says with a smirk, raising his eyebrows. He's been spending way too much with Bucky, too.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, looking up in feigned consideration before shifting and moving over to crawl over Steve on his hands and knees, metal palm _clunking_ quietly against the hardwood floor.

“Maybe,” Bucky replies, voice low, staring down at Steve with hungry eyes. He leans down over him to kiss Steve languidly and full of intent, breaking apart after a few long moments but not going far, just an inch or so.

“Fucking Barton,” Steve says jokingly, voice quiet against Bucky's lips.

“You were right,” Bucky says just as quietly, eyes still on Steve's, “I'd rather fuck you.”

Steve lets out a low laugh, says, “That can be arranged,” spreading his legs wider for Bucky to settle down in between them, which he does, pressing a kiss to the side of Steve's chin before trailing his lips along the right side of his jaw. Bucky grinds down into him and they both groan quietly.

“Best thing about that damn serum,” Bucky says lowly into his ear.

Steve laughs again quietly while reaching up to brush his fingers through Bucky's hair.

–

Steve wakes up a while later (judging from the sun's position, about an hour) alone on the hardwood floor and gives a lazy, full body stretch, pushing himself up with a hand after to sit, ears picking up sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. He pushes himself up off the floor and silently makes his way into the connected living room, eyes immediately drawn to the movement in the kitchen.

“ _It's time to lose your mind and let the crazy out_ ,” Bucky sings a little off pitch with the music coming from overhead, bouncing around naked in circles on the fronts of his feet around the room while something that smells like eggs cook in a pan on the stove, bacon in the other, “ _Go insane go insane throw some glitter make it rain, darlin' let me see them hands, darlin' let me see them hands_ ,” he sings, throwing his hands up in the air for a moment.

Steve comes to a stop at the back of the couch, leaning his lower back against it while crossing his arms over his chest and watching, a smile on his face.

Bucky spins around to face him while still singing. “ _This place about to-_ ” he cuts off, jerking his hand up in front of his mouth in a few repetitive motions while poking his tongue into the side of his cheek in time with his hand and the lyrics.

Steve's eyes widen as his cheeks heat. “ _Bucky!_ ” he scolds, but he's shaking slightly with silent laughter.

Bucky just smirks lewdly before spinning back around to stir the scrambled eggs around in the pan with a spatula, still shaking his hips in time with the beats. He turns the bacon over a last time before turning both burners off, spinning back around towards Steve and crossing the kitchen to him as the song changes.

“ _I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets, I miss the scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek, and this is so hard cause I didn't see that you were the love of my life and it kills me_ ”

Bucky darts in and kisses Steve quick before taking Steve's hands in his own and pulling him towards the kitchen. Steve stiffens slightly before reluctantly letting Bucky pull him away from the couch, cheeks still warm as he's pulled in. Bucky wraps his left arm around Steve's naked waist, lifting both of their free hands up to the side and gripping Steve's, Steve's other hand going up to Bucky's left shoulder as they start to dance.

“ _I see your face in strangers on the street I still say your name when I'm talking in my sleep, and the limelight I play it off fine, but I can't handle it when I turn off my nightlight, oooh, oooh, ooh, but I can't handle it when I turn off my night light, oooh, oooh, ooh_

“ _They say that true love hurts well this could almost kill me, young love murdered that is what this must be I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_

“ _The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed, young love murder that is what this must be, I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_ ”

Bucky sings along softly as they turn, Bucky leading and Steve following with a soft smile on his lips.

“Is that so?” Steve asks quietly, spinning as Bucky twirls him out and then reels him back in, his metal foot _clunking_ quietly on the smooth kitchen floor.

“Mmhmm,” Bucky hums in agreement, lips curving up at both ends.

“ _Remember the time we jumped the fence when The Stones were playing and we were too broke to get in, you held my hand and they made me cry while I swore to God it was the best night of my life_

“ _Or when you took me across the world we promised that this would last forever but now I see, it was my past life, a beautiful time, drunk off of nothing but each other 'till the sunrise, drunk off of nothing but each other 'till the sunrise_ ”

Steve's eyes soften at the words as he stares at Bucky, Bucky staring back at him intently as their feet move silently across the cold, shiny floor of the kitchen. Steve shifts a little to take the lead and spins Bucky out like Bucky had him, pulling him back in before they go back to dancing in circles around the room.

“ _They say that true love hurts well this could almost kill me, young love murder that is what this must be, I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_

“ _The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed, young love murder that is what this must be, I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_

“ _It was a past life, a beautiful time, drunk off of nothing but each other 'till the sunrise_ ”

Bucky gets a spark in his eye and spins Steve out again one more time, reeling him back in before shifting with the motion to suddenly dip him, lowering him to a foot off the floor.

“ _They say that true love hurts well this could almost kill me, young love murder that is what this must be, I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_

“ _The life is fading from me while you watch my heart bleed, young love murder that is what this must be, I would give it all to not be sleeping alone, alone_ ”

Steve blinks up at Bucky's grin, blue-gray eyes warm and like home and Steve can't stop staring at him, emotions running rampant in his chest with how much Bucky makes him feel, how much _only_ Bucky manages to make him feel. Even Peggy didn't- Not like this, this is different.

Bucky's grin softens into a gentle smile, leaning down to press a longer kiss to Steve's lips and Steve let's go of Bucky's hand to thread his fingers into the back of Bucky's hair, surging up slightly into it. Bucky's right arm comes down to wind around Steve's middle, hand pressing up between his shoulder blades to support his back at the angle they're both in.

They part and then Bucky pulls him up, setting him back on his feet. Steve presses his forehead to Bucky's for a moment, just breathing him in before he leans back, both of them looking at each other before Steve glances around Bucky, nodding to the stove top. “Breakfast?” he asks.

“Lunch,” Bucky replies, smile turning into a grin again, gently releasing Steve before heading over to the stove.

“And a show,” Steve comments teasingly to Bucky's naked, retreating backside.

Bucky wiggles his hips to the new, upbeat track now playing overhead, singing along, “ _I'm in love alright-ight-ight-ight_ ,” and Steve laughs.

–

Bucky makes sure to arrive at the park the next morning a few minutes before Steve leaves it, staying back and out of sight on the other side of a truck parked across the street. He watches Steve and Sam talk as they finish their walk around the park perimeter between the gate and the trees, reading their lips once they stop and face each other to talk, headphones in his ears but volume turned low. It's harder to make out what they're saying by watching their profiles instead of their full faces, but he can still make out the gist of it.

Sam saying, “ _I want to help if I can, seriously, man_.”

Steve responding, “ _I can't ask you to do that, Sam. I won't ask you to do that_.”

Sam, “ _You're not asking, I'm offering. It's my choice, right?_ ”

Steve hesitates a long minute before finally, slowly nodding, and Bucky's sure he's thinking of _them_ finally being able to make _their_ own choices, and how he would never want take that away from someone else.

Sam smiles and pats Steve on the shoulder, movements purposefully obvious to give Steve time to react, or not react to it if he wants, and Bucky appreciates that.

Steve leaves soon after and then Sam's crossing the street in Bucky's direction, heading for the coffee shop Bucky knows he likes to frequent. Bucky steps out from where he's hidden behind the truck as Sam nears, Sam's eyes immediately spotting him and freezing in place a couple feet away from the curb. They stare at each other for a long moment before a car horn honks sharply to Bucky's left and Sam jumps, jogging the rest of the way to the sidewalk Bucky's standing on with an apologetic wave at the car.

“ _Mark_ ,” Sam says when he comes to a stop across from Bucky, hands loose at his sides, prepared to move if he needs to.

That's a large reason why Bucky likes Sam, as 'counselor' as he's occasionally seen Sam get on Steve, he's smart and trained, which is also why Bucky's wary of him. He's a soldier, and both Bucky and Steve are fully aware of just how far a soldier will go on orders. He just needs to find out if those 'orders' will be coming solely from Steve.

“Sam,” Bucky replies, voice neutral and hands tucked into his black leather jacket pockets, looking at him over the tops of his black sunglasses and under his equally black hat. He hasn’t worn color much since 1945, so sue him. “We need to talk.”

Sam shifts and inclines his head a little in acknowledgment, glancing around before tilting his head back towards the park, an eyebrow raised in question.

Bucky gives a small nod before tilting his own head, signaling for Sam to lead the way.

Sam narrows his eyes slightly in thought before turning back towards the street and walking to the edge of the back of the truck parked next to the sidewalk they're on, looking left then right before crossing the street. Bucky follows, Sam keeping an eye on him the whole time. He's smart to.

Sam leads them back into the park, stopping just past the perimeter gate and looking over at Bucky, who just keeps walking down the main, paved path. Sam follows shortly after, brief surprise flashing on his face before he jogs a little to catch up.

Bucky comes to a stop at the end of a long row of mostly empty park benches set as borders on either side of the paved path, rows of trees behind the backs of the benches and littered throughout the stretching, grassy fields expanding beyond. He takes a seat a little ways in from the end of the start of the row, leaning back with his hands kept in his pockets and legs semi-sprawled out in front of him in the perfect image of relaxed. Sam stands a few feet away, eyeing him for a long moment, only walking over and taking a careful seat a foot away when Bucky sends him a _look_ over the top of his sunglasses.

They’re both silent for a while, Bucky listening to the sounds of kids playing and squealing a little ways off, people conversing as they occasionally walk by, and the cold breeze taking leaves with it as it passes by. The sound of Sam's slightly increased heartbeat.

After a few more minutes of this, Sam lets out a breath, leaning back into the bench they're both on and shifting a leg out, hands resting in his lap. Bucky hears his heartbeat slow to a resting pace and holds back a smirk, turning the volume a little lower on his iPod with his right hand. He shifts a little to get more comfortable against the knives he has holstered at his lower back.

“Not afraid of me anymore,” he says, listening to Sam's steady heartbeat. It spikes briefly when he speaks, but goes back to normal soon after.

Sam lets out a quiet laugh, slightly strained at the edges, but for the most part just relaxed. “I am _plenty_ afraid of you,” he says, turning his head to look at Bucky, who turns his own to look back, eyebrow raised in a question. Sam raises both of his back and nods towards Bucky's covered left arm, eyes glancing down at it before looking back up to Bucky's face. “Among other things,” he indicates, “Like running into you in the kitchen yesterday,” he explains without without details.

Bucky lets his smirk curve up one side of his mouth, feels its sharp edges and predatory angle.

Sam shifts slightly, uncomfortable, but keeps his eyes on Bucky's, and Bucky has to give him credit for that. Lesser men have looked away when it was just The Winter Soldier's eyes.

“I wasn't expecting company,” Bucky says.

Sam snorts. “Yeah, I kind of figured that from the lack of clothes.”

Bucky leans his head back and lets out a bark of a laugh, settling down after a moment and expression turning serious as he turns his head back to look at Sam. “I will kill you if you become a threat to him,” he says calmly, expression a cross between a schooled blank and a serious warning, waching him.

Sam watches him back for a long moment before looking out at the park, glancing back at Bucky shortly after. “I know it, and I'm not worried,” he replies easily, “I don't intend to become one.”

“It doesn't matter if you intend it or not,” Bucky says immediately, and Sam's expression turns a little more serious, “You already know that means nothing in our lives.”

Sam stares at him for a long minute and Bucky stares back, neither budging.

“If you don't want to risk that, back out now, you won't get another chance,” Bucky says calmly, half hoping Sam will because Bucky doesn't want to have to kill him should something happen later, because he knows Steve won't want to. The other half of him is hoping Sam won't because Steve, Bucky will grudgingly admit, is better with Sam in his life. “Under your own power or not, you hurt him in any way and I will end you,” he finishes lowly.

Sam looks at him for a long time, studying him, or trying to. Bucky knows Sam will only see what Bucky wants him to, he's not as much of an open book as Steve is, but he leaves the things he wants Sam to see there in his eyes, because Sam needs to know just what exactly he's getting himself into, how far Bucky will go for Steve.

Sam closes his eyes, letting out a long breath before finally giving a slow nod, looking back up at Bucky. “Alright.”

“' _Alright_ ',” Bucky repeats, deadpan, staring at him.

Sam huffs a laugh, nodding. “ _Alright_ , I'm in,” he clarifies, smiling a little, but body still a bit tense.

Bucky nods after a long moment. “Alright,” he says, turning back to look out at the park, eyes scanning the area, always alert. He sees Sam do the same out of the corner of his eye and they both just sit and listen to the world around them, Bucky trying to adjust to officially having someone new in his and Steve's lives for the long run because he knows Sam isn't lying, would be able to see it if he was. He's had a lot of experience with subterfuge.

“You really would, too, wouldn't you,” Sam says quietly, and Bucky shifts slightly, getting a little more comfortable.

“I would,” he answers steadily, keeping his voice down, “I have. I've done things to him, but I've done worse _for_ him.”

Sam's thoughtfully quiet for a while before he says, “He doesn't come in this far,” almost out of nowhere, voice casually conversational, “It's been weeks, but he still won't do it.”

Bucky makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, lifting his right arm to rest it on the back of the bench between them. “It's too much right now,” he answers the non-question.

Sam makes an agreeing sound, hands clasping in his lap. “He's doing worlds better since we first met, though, I have to say,” he adds.

“Yeah, partially thanks to you,” Bucky grudgingly admits in a grumble after a few moments.

That makes Sam laugh, looking back over at him. “Don't like sharing the attention, I take it,” he says a little teasingly, but not enough to offend. Sam's good at doing that, saying things that might offend someone _without_ actually offending anyone. It's one of the reasons Bucky thinks he and Steve get along so well; Sam can say what he thinks needs to be said without Steve getting defensive. But Bucky's also aware of just how _dangerous_ that ability is, has seen Natalia use it.

Bucky huffs a breath, tilting his head idly to the left. “It's been just the two of us for a long time,” he says quietly after a few moments, “As much attention as he's getting now...it's not the same as the last time he was in the limelight, sure, but it wasn't easy for either of us to deal with then, and it's still not easy now. _Especially_ now. It's always been just the two of us since we were kids.”

Sam's quiet for a little bit, absorbing the words before he says, “You know that's not healthy, relying on someone that heavily.”

Bucky turns his head a little to look over at him. “Does it matter,” he replies and doesn't ask, because he doesn't really care for an answer. He and Steve will do whatever they're going to do.

Sam turns his head to stare at him for a long moment, eyebrows pulled together a little before rising. “You're serious,” he concludes from his studying.

Bucky just raises an eyebrow, gesturing at his clothes, left arm, and whole person in general with his right hand to indicate his image.

Sam huffs another laugh. “Point,” he says, smiling briefly before his expression turns serious again, “He needs more than that, though. I don't mean to push my nose where it doesn't belong, but your relationship will never be healthy if you two just shut yourselves away together from the rest of the world.”

“It's not that simple,” Bucky replies coolly, watching him.

“No,” Sam admits, raising his hands slightly while sighing, “No, you're right, it's not. Still,” he continues, letting his hands drop back into his lap, “If you two _do_ decide to stick around, you should both branch out, meet people who aren't your _current housemates_ and each other. Shutting yourselves away will only make things worse. The way he hinted at you two tearing at each other, getting violent...it's not good.”

Bucky considers his words for a few minutes, glancing down to the paved pathway, then the trees across the way. They didn't bring up that part of the story when Steve was telling it, so Steve must have vaguely brought it up to Sam at some point before. And even without having the full knowledge of it, Bucky knows Sam's right, but at the same time he doesn't think he's right at all.

“At this point I don't think it matters if it's _good_ ,” Bucky finally says, keeping his eyes on the trees, “Violence or not, I don't need anything else. ' _Meeting other people_ ' and ' _making connections_ ' with them is a dangerous luxury, and unnecessary. Steve might need it, but I don't, I never really have. All I've ever really needed is Steve, and I have Natasha. I don't need anyone else.”

“Well, maybe _you_ don't need it,” Sam concedes, “But _he_ does, you just said so yourself. So locking him up with you will only end up hurting _him_ , won't it?”

Bucky presses his mouth into a slight line, contemplative. There is a way that it wouldn't, he thinks, but that's a worst case scenario and entirely Steve's choice, and he's not going to talk about it to anyone but Steve alone.

“Maybe,” he finally concedes after a few minutes of thoughtful silence, “Maybe. But even if he does, that's his decision, and if he chooses not to, we'll get by, we always do,” he decides.

“Sounds like a lonely way to live,” Sam says quietly after a moment, and Bucky turns his head to look at him again, “Not having anyone but you two to turn to, being alone.”

“Sometimes,” Bucky concedes, eyes darting down before he shifts and pushes himself up off the bench, feeling Sam's eyes on him, “But most of the time it's all I want. Just the two of us.” And most of the time, he can believe it's all Steve really wants too.

He turns left after a moment and starts walking further into the park, leaving Sam on the bench and feeling his eyes on his back the whole time. _The Monster_ starts playing on his iPod and he wants to laugh. He just turns the volume up instead.

–

“But _Rogers_ ,” Tony wheedles, “It's _**Halloween**_. Even _you_ have to love it.”

“Tony,” Steve says on a sigh, looking to Bucky for help.

Bucky raises his eyebrows back from where he's sitting at the table with his honeynut cheerios, swallowing his mouthful before raising his hands. “I think it's a fun idea,” he says.

“ _Bucky,_ ” Steve says, frown on his face.

“Much as it _pains_ me to agree with Tony Stark,” Bucky says dramatically, and Tony grins widely, “When's the last time we actually _did_ celebrate Halloween? 1942?” His eyes are serious, but there’s a spark in them as he looks at Steve. “I think it'd be fun,” he finishes.

Steve stares at him for a long moment before his shoulders slump and he sighs again in defeat, reaching up to run a hand through his now longer hair. “Fine,” he says as Bucky takes another bite of his cereal a little triumphantly, “But what are we even going to wear?” he asks.

“Um,” Tony chimes in, trying and failing to suppress another grin as they both look to him, Bucky's cheeks a little chipmunk'd out with his mouth full of cereal, “I have the perfect idea.”

–

“No,” Steve says firmly later, staring at the long, opened panel in the armory wall, “ _No._ ”

“ _Steve_ , come on, no one's going to know it's really you,” Tony says, looking to Bucky for help.

Bucky stares up at the second slid open panel in the wall with an expression that's a mix of contemplative and blank.

“Tony, _no_ , I don't- I _can't_ -” Steve tries to get out, eyes darting away, “I'm not _that_ anymore.”

“That's the beauty of it,” Tony tries to reassure quickly, looking from Steve, to the outfit, then back again, trying for reason with him, “It's _Halloween_. You don't have to _really be it_ if you don't want to. There's no pressure for you to be that guy again, but maybe for a night you can make some _good_ memories in an outfit you clearly don't have many good memories _of_.”

Steve's silent for a few minutes and Bucky glances over at him, sees him thinking Tony's words through and turning them over, glancing back up at the outfits and trying to come to a decision. Bucky glances back to the uniforms himself, eyes stopping on Steve's first before sliding back to his. It's his old, Howling Commando uniform, redesigned into something sleeker and remade with modern, more durable material, he's sure (all courtesy of Coulson, he's heard), but still recognizable as _his_.

He feels that familiar prickle on the side of his face and turns his head to look back at Steve, whose expression is torn and all sorts of uncertain. Bucky forces a smile before his eyes dart back to his uniform, walking the five feet to it and coming to a stop directly in front of it, reaching up with his right hand to slide his fingertips down the front side of the jacket. He looks back over at Steve. “Maybe Tony's right,” he says a little quietly, “About the memories. They aren't all bad, but the last thing I remember when wearing this is landing in the snow to the sound of our bones breaking.” Bucky sees Tony shift next to Steve, but keeps his eyes on Steve himself. Surprisingly, it's his conversation with Sam that makes his mind up for him. It might be good for Steve to do this, and it might be good for Bucky, too. “Maybe this will be good for the both of us,” he decides, and watches Steve's eyes dart from Bucky's old uniform to his own, expression clearing a little but still not entirely comfortable with the idea, Bucky can tell.

“Alright,” Steve quietly decides after a few minutes of looking at it, stepping up next to Bucky and pressing his own fingertips to the white star in the center of his uniform's chest. “Alright,” Steve repeats a little stronger, more to himself than to anyone else. He looks over at Bucky and they both look at each other for a long moment before Bucky's eyes shift back to his own uniform.

“Alright,” Bucky agrees, fingertips skimming over the gold wing patch on the shoulder of the left sleeve, “Alright.”

–

Steve asks him to cut his hair a few days later, Halloween approaching. Barton relayed through Natasha that Fury and Coulson have gone to ground to find more information and try to source out Hydra's main 'head,' and start putting countermeasures in place for the attack that's supposed to happen on Christmas, or further them. Bucky doesn't believe for a second that neither Coulson nor Fury haven't had something in the works since before Steve and Bucky left for the Middle East, they're not the type to be unprepared. So, they're all left waiting to find out what Fury and Coulson know or find and have nothing else to do until they do, which Bucky also doesn't trust, it's too convenient and he's still a paranoid bastard.

Steve sits on the edge of the large bathtub in the bathroom of his floor while Bucky stands behind him in the tub itself, scissors in one hand and a small towel draped around Steve's shoulders. Steve's bangs have started to flop into his eyes and it makes Bucky conscious of his own hair.

“How short do you want it?” Bucky asks, carding his metal fingers through Steve's hair from the back of his head to the front.

Steve makes a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, hands resting in his lap. “Just short,” he says.

Bucky raises his eyebrows at the back of Steve's head, fingers still buried in his soft, blonde hair, sifting through it. “So you wouldn't mind if I gave you a mohawk, or...” Bucky trails off, casually.

“Bucky,” Steve says, turning his head to look up at him over his shoulder.

Bucky smirks, quickly ruffling up the top of Steve's hair and making Steve duck and swat at his hand in return. “You know I'm kidding. Mostly,” Bucky replies, and Steve smiles at him before turning his head back around, moving his arms to grip the edge of the tub with his hands and sit up straight, but still relaxed. His positions aren't as stiff anymore, _Steve's_ not as stiff anymore, neither of them are and that's saying something.

“Alright, here we go,” Bucky announces, running his hand through Steve's hair one more time while shifting the scissors in his grip, sliding the fingers in his hair down the back of Steve's head and catching some sections in the back, cutting off the first few strands.

“Should cut my hair when I'm done with yours,” he says thoughtfully a few minutes later as the scissors' _snips_ fill the silence, the only other noise the sound of their breathing and the falling, cut off strands of hair that their enhanced hearing can just barely pick up.

“Okay,” Steve says, sounding a little drowsy, and Bucky pauses the cutting to run his hand through Steve's hair again, removing the cut strands. Steve leans into the touch slightly and Bucky smiles before sectioning off a few more chunks between two of his metal fingers and cutting, slowly working on shortening the hair at the back of Steve's head. “Hey,” he says softly, scissors snipping.

“Hm?” Steve hums in question, and Bucky knows Steve's eyes are closed.

“Remember that time Dum Dum tried getting you to let him cut your hair,” Bucky says, “He ended up chasing you around our camp with scissors while you ran, yelling at him that 'kids shouldn't run with scissors' the whole time.” Bucky smiles at the memory while Steve gives a quiet laugh, otherwise staying still while Bucky cuts his hair.

“Yeah, I remember,” Steve says, voice quiet and fond.

“You saved his ass the next day, too,” Bucky continues after a moment, finishing up the back before moving onto the sides, “Hydra soldiers we missed that were out on patrol came running back after we blew up their factory near Germany. Would've disintegrated Dum Dum on the spot too if you hadn't heard them coming at the last minute and blocked the blast with your shield.”

Steve hums in agreement, and Bucky can hear another smile there.

He pauses his cutting and leans down, mouth next to Steve's ear. “Whatever would we have done without our _illustrious_ Captain,” Bucky says lowly, exaggeratedly seductive in Steve's ear.

Steve huffs a laugh as Bucky straightens back up, moving back to cutting the sides. “' _Crash and burn_ ,'” Steve quotes.

Bucky makes a noncommittal sound, finishing off the left side. “I don't know, we ended up more ' _fall and freeze_ ' than ' _crash and burn_ ,'” he says casually, lifting the scissors away just as Steve starts to quickly turn his head around, just like Bucky knew he would.

“Bucky!” Steve scolds, giving him a look over his left shoulder.

Bucky grins back, motioning for Steve to turn back around.

Steve glares at him a little but does, sitting a little stiffer now.

“I have to be able to joke about it,” Bucky says a few moments of quiet later, moving on to the top, “Otherwise, I may never be...” he pauses in his cutting, trailing off, unsure of what word he's looking for. He's not sure it exists.

Steve reaches back with a hand after a moment and grips the side of Bucky's leg, squeezing it gently through his pants. “I know,” he says quietly, “Me too.”

Bucky lets out a breath and goes back to cutting the top. Steve's hand stays gently gripped on his leg the whole time. It grounds him.

“There,” Bucky announces a short while later, ruffling the top of Steve's hair to shake loose the cut strands before reaching down to slide the towel off of his shoulders, angling it towards the tub and shaking the rest of the loose strands out into it. He slings the small towel to lay over his own shoulder.

Steve stands up and walks over to the bathroom mirror to take a look, eyes widening slightly before reaching up to ruffle it a little and then slide his fingers through it.

“Bad?” Bucky asks, stepping out of the tub and moving over to turn it on, grabbing the attached hose-like spray piece and aiming it at the strands in the tub. It's not an efficient way to get rid of the scraps, but if the pipes clog that's Tony's problem. Bucky smirks like a malicious twelve year old as he watches the soaked, blonde strands swirl down the drain with the water, half hoping the pipes really do clog up.

He lets the hose coil back into the other side of the tub and turns the water off, straightening back up when he's done and turning around to find Steve looking at him, an excited smile on his face. “I like it,” Steve says, looking back into the mirror for a moment, “It's different. I've never had it like this before.” He ruffles the short top again, smiling over at Bucky after. The back and sides are cut close to his head for the most part, similar to how it used to be before and during the war, just a short ways off from being shaved since they used scissors, but the top is a couple inches longer, ruffled and wild.

It shows more of his face than the last cut, neither of them hollow looking and empty like they once were, but they both still have some visible sharp angles just from... _history_. But he thinks the new cut suits Steve, _this_ Steve.

Bucky smiles as he walks over, flipping the scissors in his right hand then offering them to Steve, handle first, fingers wrapped around the blade. It reminds him of other things, so many other things, of throats and blood and murders made to look like suicides, but he doesn't cringe away from those memories now, not exactly.

Steve reaches up and takes the scissors, careful of Bucky's flesh hand before gesturing for Bucky to turn around while he goes over to grab the small trashcan, setting it directly behind Bucky.

“How short?” he asks while Bucky wraps the small towel around his own shoulders, “Like it was a few weeks ago or _before_?”

“A few weeks ago,” Bucky replies, looking across the bathroom at the tile of the shower wall through it's glass cage, “I don't think I'm ready for it to look like it did before. Might never be.”

Steve doesn't say anything, just reaches up after a moment and starts trimming.

–

Halloween finally comes upon them and they've both taken their 'costumes' to their own apartments to change into. It was too much, being on even the same floor while they put their histories and possible futures on, both shrugging into wing symbols and blue.

Steve adjusts the collar on the uniform after having struggled into the pants (they're tight, very tight, and an image of Coulson flashes through his mind). He feels...he's not sure how to feel.

He feels like if he turns around he's going to come face to face with a campfire, Dum Dum, Gabe, Jim, Dernier, Falsworth, and Bucky all sat on the hard ground in various positions. Dum Dum would be taking a drink out of his flask, legs sprawled, telling some story about a woman he met at the previous town. Gabe would be laughing and murmuring to Dernier in French, both sat together side by side. Falsworth would be smiling and calling Dum Dum out on the exaggerations because of course he, “ _was there and I remember she had dark blonde hair, not brown_ ,” warming his hands in front of the small fire with a cup of rare coffee. And Bucky would be sitting cross-legged, rifle leaned against his shoulder and a rare grin on his face before turning to Steve and telling him to, “ _Sit your ass down and come hear this_ ,” and-

Steve shakes his head, clearing the memory before reaching over to grab the helmet off of the bed, lifting it up to look at it. Neither of their outfits are the originals, just redesigns based off of them, but they're close enough that it's jarring. It's almost like when his memories were newly returned and overlapping, like toned down vertigo and deja vu.

He gives himself a full body shake before dropping his hand back to his side, helmet dangling from his grip on the leather straps as he opens the door of his bedroom and heads out of the apartment, taking the elevator up to the communal room where they're all supposed to be meeting.

He steps out to the sound of a loud scream and freezes as the elevator doors slide closed behind him, relaxing again when he hears the sounds of exaggerated blood splatter. He makes his way down the hall, stepping into the room and letting his eyes go to the movie playing on the tv. Jason's about to kill a young couple in the middle of their 'sexcapades,' as Tony had informed Pepper through their Skype call. Tony's still wary of her being in the same proximity as Steve and Bucky, but she'd seemed nice when Steve heard her talking to Tony through Skype for all of thirty seconds, and like she had a good understanding and grip on him. Tony ended the call quickly after he noticed Steve was paying attention, expression thoughtful for the rest of the night.

Steve's eyes dart to the table and kitchen, lighting on the others.

Clint's got his hair made up into a style that swoops towards the back, well, as much as it can with how short it is, and a guitar case slung on his back over a suit. Natasha's standing next to him, her hair pulled back from her forehead and curled towards the ends, wearing a skirt and blouse.

Clint notices Steve looking, and after a moment of wide eyed staring at him, shakes himself out of it and flips Steve off with a grin, Steve staring back with a confused expression on his face. Clint just laughs and goes back to talking with Natasha, who looks at Steve for a moment longer and gives him a small and minute nod before turning her attention mostly back to Clint.

Steve stares at them both for a moment longer before Tony comes over at his right and draws his attention. He's dressed like Jason, fake blood splattered up his dull, prop machete and across the mask he pushes up to rest just above his forehead like a welding helmet, grinning.

“Nice suit there,” he says, and Steve shifts again, aware of just how tight it is.

Tony laughs like he knows what Steve's thinking about and gives a nod.

“Yeah, that would be _alllllll_ Coulson,” Tony drags out with a lewd grin, throwing in waggling eyebrows for good measure that make Steve huff a laugh even while he shifts again. Even his _Soldier_ outfit wasn't quite this tight. Still, the material does stretch and the tighter fit _does_ make it easier to move quickly, and he doesn't have to worry about parts snagging on anything in battle-

No, not battle. Steve shakes his head slightly and lets his eyes scan the room.

Bruce is dressed in a red shirt with blue overalls and a red hat, a fake mustache curled across his face with white gloves, a wrench in his right hand. He spots Steve looking and raises the hand holding the wrench, giving a small wave as he comes over.

“I thought I would be red instead,” Bruce says jokingly before adding, “It's'a mee, Maaario,” with a ridiculous accent and Steve laughs, nerves mostly hidden away.

“I like it,” Steve says, and Bruce smiles. He doesn't comment on Steve's outfit, for which Steve is grateful. Someone who knows who he is saying it 'looks good' would feel like pressure, saying it 'looks right' or asking if it 'feels just like he remembers' just might push him over the edge. He managed to get into it, but he doesn't think he could handle those kinds of questions right now.

“Thor?” Steve asks after his laughter dies down.

“He's meeting us in ooooh,” Tony drags out, looking at a nearby clock in the kitchen, “Twenty minutes. I told him to ask Jane about Halloween so we'll have to see what she talked him into wearing,” Tony finishes with a smirk. Bruce just smiles patiently at Tony.

“Will Sam be coming?” Bruce asks Steve, voice calming on Steve's nerves.

Steve nods. “Yeah, he said he'd meet us out front a little after Thor gets here,” he answers.

Bruce nods. “Now we're only missing- Oh, there he is,” Bruce says calmly, nodding behind Steve when Steve looks at him. Steve turns around and the all of the air goes out of his lungs.

Bucky's wearing his uniform and it's almost as tight as Steve's is, black pants showing off his legs that go into knee high boots, the dark blue coat nearly identical to the one he wore during the war but a closer fit, a real rifle slung across his back.

Bucky's stiff, staring a little blankly around the room before his eyes catch on Steve, widening a little before lighting up as he walks over, saying something to Natasha in Russian on the way that Steve translates as, “ _You look nice, June_ ,” to which Natasha replies, “ _As do you, Sergeant Barnes_ ,” a glint in her eye.

“Steve,” Bruce says by way of goodbye, pulling Tony away to give Steve and Bucky a moment while Tony leaves with a, “ _Captain, my Captain!_ ” and a quick salute.

Steve freezes for a moment at the words before forcing himself to relax, focusing instead on Bucky as he comes to a stop in front of Steve, eyes roaming over Steve’s uniform. Bucky raises an eyebrow as they go lower and then slowly back up, leaning to the side to get a better look at the back.

“Well, I think Coulson likes your star spangled ass almost as much as I do,” Bucky concludes, smirking at him.

Steve feels his cheeks go warm and punches Bucky's flesh arm with his free hand. “Shut up. Just because yours isn't as tight as mine doesn't mean it still isn't _tight_ ,” Steve says, raising both eyebrows while dropping his eyes to Bucky's _defined_ legs.

Bucky scoffs, doing a one-eighty turn. “I'm a fine piece of ass and you know it,” he says, smirking again when Steve's cheeks go a little more red. “Not that you aren't, too...” he trails off, leaning in to press a kiss to Steve's lips.

Steve lets out a breath through his nose as he closes his eyes, breathing Bucky in as he leans into it slightly, almost chasing him when Bucky pulls away. He opens his eyes slowly, nerves a little more settled.

“You're the only one who'd know,” Steve replies with a small grin, Bucky returning it.

“Yes, I would, so my word on this is law. You're a fine piece of ass Steve Rogers,” he declares, and Steve laughs even though his cheeks still feel warm.

“Alright!” Tony lets out with a clap, machete held between his arm and side before pulling it out and raising it up to the ceiling, “Let's go get some candy!” he half shouts, bringing the machete down to aim it at the elevator.

Clint snorts. “Like you _need_ any candy, Pirate Voorhees,” he says as Tony charges his way towards the elevator, handing them all bags as he goes, a slightly manic grin on his face as the rest of them take said bags and follow.

Tony turns and walks backwards, pointing at Clint with his machete. “Silence, Cash! I need my spoils,” he says, pulling the mask down over his face.

“You're not a pirate, Tony. You're a classic horror flick serial killer,” Bruce says calmly as he follows.

“Hush, Mario! Or I won't order pizza when we get back,” Tony snarks in return, turning back around and gesturing grandly at the elevator doors, “Open says-me!”

The doors slide open and Tony practically bounds in.

Natasha comes in close as they approach and hands something to Bucky. The two share a look and then Bucky's pressing a domino mask to his face.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him when Bucky looks over. “I get the feeling that might end up drawing more attention than less,” Steve says as he lifts his arm, bringing the helmet up to slide it down over his head, doing up the strap, “You never wore one in the forties.”

Bucky just scoffs as they enter the elevator, standing next to him as the doors slide closed. “You're not taking your shield. This just evens things out, that's all,” Bucky replies lightly so as not to draw attention to the lack of said shield. Steve would normally freeze up, but this is Bucky, so all he does is bump his left shoulder against Bucky's right one. Ever since Bucky got his arm he's mostly positioned himself on Steve's left, “ _For your protection_ ,” Bucky had told him once, quietly in the night. Steve's noticed Sam's, in turn, taken up position on his right whenever they're together. It makes something warm inside his chest, even when all he wants to do is protect _them_ instead.

“Jerk,” Steve says quietly, a small smile on his face.

“Punk,” Bucky replies, grinning.

The elevator doors slide open on the lobby and then there's Thor.

“My friends!” Thor exclaims, brandishing his long sword into the air, a bag held in his other hand.

“Conan!” Tony exclaims back as they all head over, raising his machete in the air in return.

Thor laughs, resting the sword's dull blade on his shoulder, bronze skin practically glowing in the lobby's lights and standing out stark against all of the white. Steve has no idea who ' _Conan_ ' is, apparently hasn't gotten to that movie, if it is one, but for apparently being a warrior, he sure wears surprisingly little.

“Jane insisted I go as this, and though this warrior's fighting skills are impressive, his motives seem most selfish,” Thor says seriously before smiling at Steve. “It is good to see you again, Steve,” he says, and Steve manages an honest smile back.

“You, too, Thor,” Steve replies.

Steve doesn't ask if Thor's cold, even with the leather and fur loincloth, he knows they both run hotter than the average person, Bucky too, but he does eye Thor's bare feet for a moment before letting the worry go. They could both run across hot coal and still not be worse for the wear, Thor even more so.

“Now,” Thor says, turning towards the glass lobby doors, “Jane tells me there are treasures we are to procure from businesses and houses.”

“Yes!” Tony chimes in, pointing the way with his machete, “Now let's go get them!”

Bruce chuckles while Clint laughs, looping an arm with Natasha as they all head for the doors. Steve's breathing picks up quietly the closer they get and he's suddenly not sure he can do this. They'll know, everyone will know, _someone._ They'll know or stop and ask questions about why he doesn't have the shield with him and he and Bucky will have to stop and talk and they'll figure it out and then he and Bucky will have to run and this was a mistake a huge mistake and he _can't do this_ -

Bucky's right hand slides into his and takes a hold of it gently and Steve's eyes snap to his, breath caught in his throat.

“We'll be fine,” Bucky says quietly, just for Steve to hear, and Steve takes a quiet, deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again to look at Bucky. “ _You'll_ be fine,” Bucky continues, “I'll be with you the whole time. We'll get some candy, head back, and if anyone stops you to take pictures or talk I'll take care of it.”

Steve bites the inside of his lip as they pass through the glass lobby doors, letting out a nervous breath. He feels bad, guilty for putting that on Bucky, so he takes a fortifying breath, gives himself a shake, and squares his shoulders, squeezing Bucky's hand once before slowly letting go. “I can do this,” he says quietly to the both of them, giving Bucky a nod, “I can do this.” Bucky nods back, watching for him a moment before Sam says, “Guys!” and Steve looks over, Bucky's eyes staying on him for a moment longer before following.

Sam's wearing a black, full body suit lined with LED lights, holding a round disc in one hand that's also lined in lights, an empty pillow case in the other, grinning broadly.

“Sam, _Sam_ , _my man_ ,” Clint says urgently, leaning in and holding his fist up, “ _Excellent._ ”

Sam's grin widens as he returns the fist bump, looking over Clint and Natasha's costumes. “ _Yours_ are excellent,” he says, eyes going over the others, “Johnny and June, Jason, Conan, Mario, and _holy shit. Guys_ ,” he says, shock in his voice and on his face as he finally gets a good look at Bucky and Steve.

Sam opens his mouth but Clint quickly slaps a hand over it. “Nope, don't say the 'C' word,” Clint says mock-seriously, but his eyes are serious and Sam can see that and that's all that counts. Sam gives a nod and Clint removes his hand from Sam's mouth, wiping it on his pant leg before looking to Natasha. “Shall we, June?” Clint asks with a smirk, offering his arm again. Natasha smiles and loops her own through his. 

“We shall,” she answers, the two turning to head down the sidewalk to Steve's right.

“Meet back before midnight, Cinderellas!” Tony calls out as they go. Clint raises his free hand with the bag and gives a salute with his back to them, letting his hand drop back to his side.

“Your outfits are amazing,” Sam says honestly, eyes darting between Bucky and Steve, “Seriously. A little tight though,” he adds with a grin. Steve lets out a huff and Bucky laughs.

“Yeah, a...fan had some design input,” Steve half-mumbles, glancing at Bucky before looking back to Sam.

“More like _a lot_ ,” Bucky says, smacking Steve's ass with his right hand and Steve jumps.

“ _Bucky!_ ” he lets out, turning his head to glare at him, cheeks warm under the helmet.

Bucky just grins before taking Steve's hand and pulling him along to the left, starting down the sidewalk with Sam following, their own personal glow bug.

“Before midnight!” Tony yells after them.

“Heard you the first time, Pirate Voorhees!” Bucky yells back.

“Have fun, my friends!” Thor calls out, and Steve looks over his shoulder with a small smile and a wave.

“You, too!” Steve calls back.

They decided to split up since _The Avengers_ draw attention wherever they go, and everyone agreed that was the worst idea to start the night off with. Maybe later, when there were less people out, they could wander around together, but right now? There are children running up and down the sidewalks with their families, or at least a member of their family, some without any. Most of their bags are already three-fourths of the way full and swinging heavily from their arms. Laughs are peeling into the air and making the night feel a little more cozy as they walk.

“Hey,” one of the many kids traversing the sidewalk says a few minutes later, stopping right in front of Steve and forcing Steve, Bucky, and Sam to stop in response. Steve looks down at the little girl, who's dressed-

Like Captain America.

Steve swallows. Bucky and Sam both shift a little closer when his body stiffens.

“Where's your shield?” The little girl asks, frowning up at him in confusion.

“I- I left it at home. It was too big to carry around,” Steve answers quietly, watching the girl watch him. She can't be more than ten. Children are always more perceptive. _She could figure it out_ -

The girl frowns, looking down at her own small, plastic shield for a long moment before her expression clears and she looks back up at him.

“Do you want mine? You can have it if you want to,” she says, holding the plastic disc up in offering, “Captain America _can't_ be without his shield.”

Steve's eyes widen slightly as he stares down at it, shifting back up to the girl. “No, that's alright,” he replies, bending down on one knee in front of her, her eyes following him the whole way, “You're right, Captain America shouldn't be without his shield, but it's alright this time, I've got Bucky with me,” Steve finishes with a small smile.

The girl blinks at him before looking up at Bucky, eyes falling back down to Steve with a grin. Steve's smile widens a little further.

“Mindy!” a woman calls, and the little girl looks back over her shoulder briefly before turning back to Steve.

“I have to go,” she says in a stage whisper before looking back up at Bucky, “You'll take care of him,” she states, and Bucky blinks, taken aback before smiling with a nod.

“Mindy!” the woman calls again, spotting her. She's dressed up like Bucky.

“Coming mom!” Mindy calls back, grinning at the three of them before taking off.

Steve gets up off the sidewalk as he watches her go, her mother sending concerned looks at her daughter and suspicious ones at the three of them.

Sam raises both of his hands with an easy smile and the woman relaxes slightly, nodding once before taking her daughter's hand and leading her away.

Bucky steps a little closer, leaning towards Steve slightly to say quietly, “She's right you know. I will take care of you.”

Steve turns his head to look at him, smiling softly. “Same goes for you,” he returns.

Bucky looks at him, blinking for a moment before returning the smile.

Sam clears his throat and they both look over at him in their own time. “Not to disrupt the moment, but last I heard, we've got treasure to find,” he says, staring at them with an unimpressed expression while lifting his still empty pillow case, eyebrows raising pointedly while his lips twitch.

Bucky just levels a look at Sam. “You ever bring anyone near me that you're dating and I will make it my life's mission to ruin _your_ moments,” he says solemnly, “And trust me, I never fail a mission.”

Sam raises his eyebrows again in challenge while Bucky's eyes narrow to slits and Steve tries not to laugh, he really does, but it comes out anyway.

Sam slowly starts to grin and Bucky blinks before smirking, and then his smirk is turning into a grin and they're all laughing.

“I was serious about ruining your moments though,” Bucky says a few minutes later when they're walking again. Steve grins and Sam snorts.

–

They stop at the brownstones with their two bags and pillowcase, both Sam and Bucky the firsts to get into it with loud, “ _Trick or treat!_ ” as soon as the doors open before Steve starts joining them in it about five houses down.

Bucky was right, there are people who want to talk to and take pictures of them, but between Bucky and Sam, they manage to get out of there quick enough and avoid the cameras with excuses like, “He's camera shy,” “This is the last house we have time for before we're expected at a party, so it's just a quick stop, sorry,” and on one occasion Bucky went with, “His great aunt died in front of a camera. He's been afraid of them ever since,” with a completely straight face.

Sam had stared at him with wide eyes for all of a second before schooling his face and nodding along like that was it, that's what happened. Steve just stared at the two of them with something like dawning realization and horror at their disastrous potential of combined skills and union. They left _that_ house and then immediately went to the one next door to repeat it.

Bucky's excuses start to get more and more ridiculous the further down the street they go. “No, we can't stay. We're really looking for our lost dog spot. Typical name, I know. He's white with a black spot on his right ear, just a few months old. Please call if you find anything,” he says sincerely, jotting down Tony Stark's personal number (that he won't tell how he got a hold of) and giving it to the poor couple that bought the lie. Then again, Bucky's technically been lying for over seventy years, by this point he _better_ be good at it.

There was one that went along the lines of, “I'm so sorry, but his eyes are so sensitive to camera flashes he'll be blind for _hours_ if you take a picture, and we _really_ need to get going.”

And another, “He believes that old tale that a picture takes your soul. He avoids them like the plague,” with Bucky's arm around Steve's shoulders, Sam surprisingly fully capable of keeping a straight face until they're out of sight while Steve just goes along with it, biting the inside of his cheek to hold in a smile.

They finally get to the last house after going back down the other side of the street, bags halfway full. Bucky feels quite pleased with himself that he's managed to get them out of approximately fifteen pictures and ten conversations, with, grudgingly, a little bit of help from Sam. A couple memorable times the children of some of the brownstones actually recognized him along with Steve, and on one occasion a little girl shouted, “Bucky it's you!” before darting in like a sparrow and wrapping herself around his leg. He'd froze before forcing himself to relax, staring down at the girl with wide eyes who just grinned up at him before her father came to the door with a bowl of candy, apologizing as he pried her off of Bucky's leg. He'll never admit it, but it made him feel warm inside, and a little squishy.

They head back to Avengers Tower after an hour and a half or so, Steve and Bucky both relaxed and all three of them grinning as they talk about superstitions and some of the costumes they'd seen others wearing, and how different they are compared to the ones they saw in 1942. Steve's seen more girls pass by him in costumes that are practically undergarments than he wants to keep track of, quite a few of them sending him winks and looks that make his face even more red than the costumes. Bucky had just laughed delightedly before a of couple guys had walked by dressed as what Sam told them were 'Playgirls,' which neither Steve nor Bucky understood. It didn't stop Bucky from playfully catcalling them, which had gotten him a couple of winks and waves in return, much to Steve's embarrassment and Bucky's increased delight. 

On their continued walk back, Steve occasionally talks about something from their past with Bucky chiming in or taking over halfway through, like Dernier nearly exploding their own car, Jim beating Gabe in a drunk arm wrestling match, Dum Dum and Falsworth singing the chorus of a bar song loudly and off key and surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, Falsworth being the terrible singer.

Sam laughs and asks a question here or there, but mostly he just listens and they all have a good time. Bucky hasn't smiled this much for this long in a while, felt this light while being out and around people, and he knows for Steve it's been even longer.

Sam spots a few paparazzi hanging out in front of the Tower when they're almost to the crosswalk to cross the street to it and nudges Steve's arm, who goes stiff before his eyes glance around frantically for somewhere to _go_ or _hide_.

Bucky casually loops his arm through Steve's and pulls him to take a right instead of crossing the street, keeping his pace sedate and as casual as can be while they walk down the sidewalk, Sam following his lead. “You know what they say about predators, Steve,” Bucky says quietly. Steve turns his head to look at him, but his eyes keep darting back to the camera wielding sharks. “Walk, don't run,” Bucky finishes, bringing them to a stop at the crosswalk at the end of the street. They cross to the sidewalk lining the Tower and enter through the Tower's parking garage after a retinal scan from Bucky, paparazzi free and with no problems. Steve relaxes as soon as they're inside the elevator, JARVIS noting that his 'levels are high,' and playing some of the music Steve likes to listen to when he relaxes. It helps.

Bruce, Clint, and Natasha are already back when they get to the communal room. Natasha's sitting on the couch with a mug of tea, humming along while Clint plays the guitar he'd been carrying around in the guitar case next to her, two bags of candy a little over halfway full at their feet. Bruce is at the other end of the couch, gloves off and a book in hand, his own bag nearly full and sitting on the table in front of him. He looks up when they arrive and smiles, giving a small nod before he goes back to his book.

“Any word from Tony?” Bucky asks, letting Steve's arm go as they cross the room and round the couch, sitting somewhere in the middle, Bucky on Steve's left and Sam taking a seat on Steve's right.

“Thor said he's making his way through three entire blocks and is determined to fill his bag up to the top, 'cavities be damned,'” Bruce quotes, turning a page before over to them, “That was about half an hour ago. They should be done soon.”

Bucky nods and the three of them set their bags on the floor, each digging into them to find a piece of candy to eat.

Tony and Thor show up another half hour later with Pepper dressed as the Red Queen from _Alice in Wonderland_ , Tony's bag almost filled to the top like he wanted and Thor's matching, but Tony's got a frown on his face.

“What happened?” Sam asks, eyeing the bags and Pepper.

“This guy happened,” Tony says, jerking his head toward Thor.

“All of the women and a lot of the men wanted to give him all of their candy piece by piece just to keep him at their doorstep,” Pepper chimes in politely, “Most of this is his because his bag was starting to overflow,” she finishes with a graceful gesture towards Tony's bag, who's got a pout on his face.

The three of them come around the couch and Tony stops, bowing dramatically towards Pepper. “This is my moon and stars, the light of my life, my Queen Pepper,” Tony introduces dramatically, but when he straightens back up, his eyes are warm on her and she smiles.

“It's nice to finally meet you Steve, Bucky, Sam,” Pepper says, smiling at them.

“Ma'am,” Steve replies, smiling in return. Bucky jabs him in the side with a grin and Steve jabs him back.

Tony, Pepper, and Thor take a seat on the couch, Tony next to Bruce and Pepper between him and Sam, Thor next to Bucky. Some of the candy spills over the top of their two bags when they take a seat.

“If I had known my bare chest would cause you this much displeasure, I would have worn something more covering,” Thor says to Tony with a smirk.

Tony huffs a breath and waves a hand, digging into his bag to pull out a Snickers, unwrapping it and taking a bite. “ _Yeah, yeah_ ,” he replies, muffled, mouth full of caramel and chocolate, “We did make it back with the mother load,” Tony acknowledges, eyes going down to their bags. “Jar Jar,” Tony says after swallowing, “Movie time.”

“ _Sir, I would like to remind you that you have personally made a note for me to remind **you** that those movies ‘don’t exist for the love of **all that is holy in the world of movies** ,’ and I would also like to add that I am exceptionally smarter than that of one Jar Jar Binks_,” JARVIS replies primly.

Clint, Bucky, and Sam are all failing to hold in their laughter while Tony looks scandalized up at the ceiling like his programming went terribly wrong somewhere and somehow terribly right. Pepper hides a smile behind her hand while sharing a glance with Bruce. Steve and Thor just share a look that agrees with JARVIS' point because they have seen all of the movies and JARVIS is _indeed_ much smarter than Jar Jar Binks.

The lights dim before Tony can come up with a reply and Clint puts away his guitar. Tony takes another bite of his Snickers as the projector starts up and the company logos paint the wall in front of them.

“I hope your evening was fortuitous,” Thor says to Steve, Bucky, and Sam, and Bucky gestures to their half full bags.

“It wasn't bad,” Bucky says, “A lot better than 1942,” he grins.

“I had fun,” Steve says quietly, smiling.

“And there were these two, different little girls,” Sam starts, “One offered Steve her little plastic shield and the other wrapped herself around Bucky's le-” Bucky quickly reaches over across Steve and shoves an unwrapped piece of candy into Sam's open mouth.

“Oh I'm sorry,” Bucky says mock-innocently as the trailers start to play, “There was just this space there where I _know_ there should be Halloween candy and I had to _rectify_ that immediately.”

Steve and Thor both laugh while Tony and Clint snort. Pepper hides her own laugh behind her hand while Natasha smiles fondly. Bruce closes his book, a small smile of his own on his face.

Sam manages to shift the candy around quickly enough to lick Bucky's palm before he can pull it back and Bucky squawks, yanking his hand back. Everyone laughs.

 _Friday The Thirteenth_ starts to play and Tony jerks his machete into the air with a victory shout. Bucky pelts a mini Milkyway at his head.


	17. Shape of My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=09Hps_NhDrk

"JARVIS."

“ _Sir?_ ”

Tony spins his stool around in thought, eyes roaming over his workshop as he goes, everything moving by in a slowing blur. “Just had a thought. Pull up the results of the last tests run on Steve's enhancements from the forties.”

“ _Yes, Sir_.”

Two holograms pop in front of Tony a moment later, one an old list of mental enhancements, the other an old list of physical. Tony leans in, lifting a hand to flick a finger to scroll down through the list, eyes scanning over all of the information but mostly looking for something in particular.

He pauses his scrolling when he finds it, a smirk curving up his lips.

“JARVIS, have one of the Tower staff run to the nearest pet store for me.”

“ _And what might they be acquiring for you, Sir?_ ” JARVIS asks.

Tony's smirk widens into a devious grin.

–

Tony steps out of the elevator on the communal floor just as a song starts playing from overhead.

 

“ _I want to see your peacock-cock-cock your peacock-cock. Your peacock-cock-cock your peacock. I want to see your peacock-cock-cock your peacock-cock. Your peacock-cock-cock your peacock_.”

 

Tony snorts, walking down the hall and stepping out into the room. Barnes has recently taken an interest in pop music, to everyone's surprise but Steve and Natasha, mostly because Steve doesn't have much of a concept nor seem to care about stereotypes in the least, and Natasha can't be bothered to care about them either. Bruce had been horrified to find out and with a vehement insistence that Bucky not- or rather to, “ _Please refrain from playing anything of that year in my presence. Thank you_ ,” before making his way back down to one of the R&D floors.

Barnes is dancing in the middle of the room across from the kitchen, shaking his hips and spinning along to the beat, pausing every so often to sing the words to Steve, who's leaning against the kitchen counter across from Barnes with a mug of tea in his hands and shaking with silent laughter, grinning when he takes a sip with his eyes locked on Bucky. Natasha and Clint are on the couch, Natasha humming along quietly with the song with a book open in her lap and Clint decimating his competitors on Mario Kart, his key smashing in time with the beats. It's working for him.

 

“ _Come on baby let me see what you hidin' underneath_

_Are you brave enough to let me see your peacock? What you waiting for it's time for you to show it off. Don't be a shy kinda guy I bet it's beautiful_

_Come on baby let me see what you hidin' underneath_ ”

 

Bucky gradually dances his way closer to Steve while Steve keeps his eyes on him the whole time, finally coming in close at the chorus and leaning in to place his hands playfully on Steve's hips. He lines them up before he starts rocking them both gently from side to side, singing the words lowly with his lips just barely brushing the other side of Steve's mug held up between them, a slow grin spreading its way across Bucky's lips and, in turn, Steve's.

 

“ _Oh my God no exaggeration, boy all this time was worth the waiting, I just shed a tear, I am so unprepared. You got the finest architecture, end of the rainbow looking treasure, such a sight to see, and it's all for me-ee-ee_ ”

 

Bucky sings along a little dramatically with exaggerated torn and swooning expressions, Steve finally letting out his laugh while Natasha smirks from the couch. Tony just watches them all for a moment, soaking in the warm feeling swelling in his chest while waiting for his opportune time. He knows _they_ know he's there, it's hard to sneak up on anyone who comes to or stays in the Tower, except maybe Happy and Rhodey, but they don't know _what_ Tony's up to, rarely do if he says so himself, and he's using that to his advantage.

The song comes to an end and Steve sets the mug down next to himself on the long, kitchen counter he's leaning back against. He pulls Bucky in by twisting a hand in the front of Bucky's black t-shirt, both sharing a grinning kiss before pulling away.

Tony gives them a moment to stare at each other sappily like the practically married ninety year old couple they are before he pulls his recently acquired object out of his pocket, expression a little gleeful as he brings it up to his lips and blows.

Bucky and Steve both jump about a foot in the air before snapping their heads in Tony's direction. Natasha notices out of the corner of her eye and glances over, bumping Clint gently with her elbow to get his attention and nodding slightly over to the three of them. Clint pauses his game and looks, eyes glancing between the whistle Tony's just pulled out from between his lips and Bucky and Steve's expressions in confusion. After a moment he lets out a bark of a laugh, getting it.

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me!” Clint says between his laughs, “Woof woof Barnes, _woof woof_.”

Bucky snaps his head in Clint's direction and actually growls, which just makes Barton laugh even harder, doubling over on the couch. Tony can tell Natasha's trying to suppress a smirk.

“Fuck you, Barton,” Bucky growls out while Clint wipes a tear from his eye.

“Oh man, maybe, if you weren't already fucking Steve,” Clint jokes back.

Bucky takes a step towards him before his eyes dart back to Tony, narrowing in thought and obviously trying to pick the larger threat.

Steve shakes his head slightly to try and clear it, rubbing his left ear with a few fingers while looking up at Tony.

“Tony, is that-” Steve starts.

“A dog whistle? Why yes, yes it is,” Tony cuts him off with a grin, bringing the whistle up to his mouth to blow into it again.

Bucky lunges for him, apparently deciding he's worth going after first, and Tony manages to blow it while dodging, Bucky going rigid for a moment before growling out again, “Stark!”

Clint just laughs while Bucky chases Tony around the room, catching him sooner rather than later by pouncing him to the ground and punching Tony's arm with barely restrained strength.

“Ow!” Tony lets out, rubbing his arm while Bucky grabs the whistle up in his right fist and stands back up, “Worth it though,” Tony finishes, smirking up from the floor.

“Tony, how did you even know if that would- Oh, you didn't,” Steve finishes in deadpan, eyes looking from Tony, to the whistle, then back again, “You were using us for an experiment. _Ha ha_.”

Tony grins, dropping his hand from where he was rubbing his arm and picking himself up off of the floor from where Bucky pounced him down to it. “ _Worth it_ ,” Tony repeats, looking back at Bucky.

Bucky lets out an annoyed huff before bringing the whistle up closer to his face, looking it over before tossing it into his left palm and starting to close his fist.

“Bucky, wait-” Steve says, reaching out to grip Bucky's left bicep. Bucky pauses, glancing at Steve curiously before uncurling his metal fingers. Steve reaches down, taking it out of Bucky's palm and looking at it, expression going thoughtful.

Steve pockets the whistle into his jeans under his loose sweater after a moment before turning back around and heading over to the counter to pick up his mug of tea and heading for the elevator.

“I missed something,” Tony says, expression going perplexed as he watches Steve go, rounding the corner at the hall and leaving in the elevator.

Bucky glances at him briefly before moving to follow after Steve, disappearing into the elevator around the same corner at the end of the hall when it comes back to the communal floor, leaving Tony confused.

He shrugs, heading for the other one on the other side of the room to take it back to his workshop, high-fiving Clint on the way while he makes one of the competing cars spin out into a sand pit.

–

“ _Floor, Sir?_ ” JARVIS asks once he steps inside.

“Wherever Steve went,” Bucky answers, letting the irony of that statement sink into them both.

“ _Very good, Sir_ ,” JARVIS replies, before the elevator starts moving up.

The doors slide open a few moments later and Bucky steps out onto the Tower roof, eyes quickly scanning the area before spotting Steve sat in the large, half circle, cushioned seating area with the fire pit in the center facing the pool. He walks over on silent, bare feet, ignoring the November cold with ease. It barely even registers.

Steve doesn't look up from where he's sat when Bucky approaches, elbows resting on his knees and warm mug of tea still held in both of his hands, eyes looking out over the roof and at the city beyond it, at the setting sun and how it lights everything up in golds, pinks, and oranges. Bucky comes to a stop and takes a careful seat next to him, leaning back against the couch-like back and leaving only an inch of space between them, watching the view with Steve.

He bumps his right leg gently against Steve's after a while, the sun nearly completely sunken down into the horizon and the sky on fire, blinding in its dying light. Steve hums quietly in acknowledgment, taking the last sip of his tea before setting his mug down to his right on the cushions, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the dog whistle.

“What are you thinking about?” Bucky asks, eyes shifting from the view to Steve.

Steve studies the dog whistle for a little while, turning it around in his hands idly as he does. “I'm thinking about when we _were_ essentially dogs, and that I might give this to Sam,” Steve replies, voice calm.

Bucky stiffens slightly before relaxing again, sitting up to rest his own elbows on his thighs and letting his hands drop comfortably between his legs. “So he can have us at _his_ beck and call?” Bucky asks, and Steve's eyes jump to him, “Or in case of an emergency? What if they end up using it, or something like it, to lure us into a trap later? It's risky, Steve, and neither of us are what you'd call _Superman_.”

Steve lets out a quiet breath, eyes going back to the whistle for a moment. “I know,” he says, looking back out at the city as he lets his hand drop, whistle held in a loose grip, “But he's my friend, Buck, yours too, even if you don't want to admit it.”

Bucky scoffs quietly, but doesn't deny it at all.

Steve's eyes shift to him as he smiles at Bucky a little before going back to the city. “At least until this _Insight_ mess is dealt with,” Steve compromises.

“Mm,” Bucky hums in agreement after a few moments of silent thought, eyes going back out to the city as well. The dark blue's already overwhelming the warm colors, converting them to cold.

Bucky's eyes shift to the pool after a while, the stars slowly coming out overhead and a cool breeze sweeping through the roof. “Want to go for a swim?” he asks. Steve shifts slightly and Bucky glances at him. Steve stares back, eyebrows going a little pinched as he looks from Bucky to the pool.

“I don't know, Buck. Swimming in November, sounds colder than I'd like,” Steve replies, voice quiet.

“Pool's heated,” Bucky replies with a small grin. Steve blinks back at him, a small smile curving up his lips.

“Maybe,” Steve replies, but Bucky can tell he's only putting up a token protest.

“' _Maybe_ ,'?” Bucky asks in feigned incredulity, pushing himself up off of the couch and reaching down to grab the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it and over his head before dropping it behind him on the couch-like cushions. “We're in the year 2014, free of all mind control and under our own power, living in the most expensive, well known building in New York - maybe even the continent, maybe the _world_ \- with a pool built into the roof, and he says 'maybe,'” Bucky scoffs, pushing his sweatpants down and letting them pool on the ground, stepping out of them and turning around to face Steve in the nude. “ _Get out of those clothes, Rogers_ , we're going fucking skinny dipping and you're going to enjoy it,” Bucky demands, and Steve blinks up at him before letting out a laugh, setting the whistle down next to his mug before reaching down and grabbing the bottom of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head before setting it on the cushions next to Bucky's t-shirt.

“You're bossy,” Steve says teasingly, standing up as he unbuttons his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them down to the ground, underwear and all, before stepping out of them, also ignoring the cold with ease.

Bucky scoffs again, setting his hands onto his hips. “You love me when I'm ' _bossy_ ,'” he says with a grin before reaching over and taking one of Steve's hands, pulling him towards the pool slightly, “Come on, Rogers,” he says, a playful glint in his eye.

Bucky takes a step before breaking out into a run, pulling Steve along with him. Steve lets out a loud laugh as they quickly close the distance to the edge of the pool, both launching themselves off of the edge of it in a jump. Bucky lets out an excited yell like he's four all over again as they fall, hitting the water in a large, fountain of a splash.

He resurfaces just a moment before Steve does, sliding his hair back off of his face with a hand as he comes up.

“Sure you won't rust, Buck?” Steve asks jokingly with a grin, and Bucky flings some water at him with a hand, earning him Steve's spluttering laugh.

“Only as much as you will,” Bucky retorts with a grin. Steve narrows his eyes at him and for a moment Bucky's worried that he's gone too far, but then Steve suddenly smirks and shoves a small tidal wave of water at him with both of his hands and Bucky ends up being the one spluttering.

“Punk!” Bucky half yells with a grin, tackling Steve into the water.

“Jerk!” Steve yells back with a grin of his own after he resurfaces, wrestling out of Bucky's grip and dunking Bucky's head under the water in retaliation.

They continue like that for a while, shoving and dunking each other under the water and flinging water at one another before finally settling down, moving to float next to each other on their backs and look up at the stars, the light of day completely covered by night.

“When was the last time we just looked up at the stars,” Steve says quietly, arms and legs spread out wide like a starfish.

“The night I got back from basic training,” Bucky replies, his own arms and legs also spread out, “We had beer to celebrate, listened to the neighborhood's stray cat yowling while ol' Mrs. Baker yelled at it to ' _shut it's trap_ ,'” Bucky finishes in an imitation of her voice before giving a small laugh, Steve joining him.

“That's right, with Mr. Gregory's old wireless playing from the window two stories below. You had to half carry me down the stairs because I couldn't hold my alcohol,” Steve adds.

Bucky snorts, turning his head just enough to look at Steve without getting any water in his eye. “Yeah. I remember you made us trip into the wall more than once going down those rickety old stairs,” Bucky says playfully.

Steve makes an indignant sound. “Well, if you hadn't _insisted_ I drink three beers instead of stopping at _one_ like I wanted...” Steve trails off, trailing his arms slowly on top of the water.

“We were _celebratin,'_ Stevie,” Bucky replies emphatically, and Steve huffs a small laugh before focusing back on the stars.

They're quiet for a little while again before Steve says, quietly, “Reminds me of Austria.”

Bucky looks at him for a moment before looking back up at the stars. “Yeah,” he finally agrees, just as quiet while staring up, “The sky was clear as anything that night, just like this. No city lights, no car horns, no trainin' yellin' from camp. The city lights weren't as bright then as they are here, could still see somethin' from a low roof. Now...” Bucky trails off, feels a prickle on the side of his face that lets him know Steve's watching him. “Now it's harder, everything's just gotten so much harder,” he finishes with a sigh, shifting to stand back up in the heated pool.

Steve follows suit, sinking down into the pool so his chin touches the water. “What are you thinking, Buck,” he says quietly, returning Bucky's earlier question about what _Steve_ was thinking.

Bucky glances at him before looking back up at the stars, head tilted back. He lowers himself in the pool too, arms swaying through the water at his sides. “Things are more simple than they were then, but they're _not_ ,” Bucky starts, eyes still on the stars, “Back then life was hard, but it was still simple. I had you, you had me, we lived out of each others' pockets, went dancin' with some dames, and I enlisted. We weren't worried 'bout Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D., aliens or superheroes,” he pauses for a moment, thinking. “We marched through Austria and stopped to make camp and I remember us just lookin' up at the stars,” he continues, voice quiet, “I remember thinkin,' when it really started to sink in, that you were _different, things_ were _different_ now, more complicated. I remember thinkin' we could never go back to the life we had, not after we got back to the main camp across the border and everyone was cheerin' for you. Even if we did get to go back to Brooklyn, we'd never have the same life we had before.”

“You started them on, Buck,” Steve says quietly, after a moment, and Bucky lowers his head to look at him.

“Yeah, because you deserved it, you've always deserved it,” Bucky says honestly. Steve's eyes dart to the side.

“I wasn't nothin' special, Buck,” Steve replies quietly, old, Brooklyn accent coming out along with Bucky's.

“Pack'a lies and y'know it,” Bucky replies, reaching over to gently cuff Steve on the side of the head with his left fist, Steve looking back at him as the water sloshes slightly with the movement.

“I was still just _me_ , Buck, I still am,” Steve says after a few moments, eyes on him and so open.

“Yeah, I know Steve, but that's not how everyone _else_ , the _world_ saw you, and I knew that really changed things, them finally seein' you like you were. I knew we'd never just be...Steve and Bucky again, maybe not Steve and Bucky at _all_ ,” Bucky says, voice a little quieter, eyes looking away from Steve's pinched expression. “I know you don't think that, I know you _never_ did,” Bucky says, cutting Steve off before he can start, looking back up at Steve to see his mouth close in an uncomfortable line, “But that's not what the world thought, and a lot of'th time that's all that ever seems to end up matterin'. Even now, people find out you're alive? They'd scream and shout yer name from the rooftops, and maybe some fer me too, but I will never count as much as you do.”

Steve's expression goes angry before he stands up straight in the water, Bucky doing the same after a moment, too, watching him.

“Maybe the world doesn't care about you as much as I do, maybe a lot of it won't ever,” Steve starts, and Bucky listens, standing straight, “But the world doesn't matter to me, Buck, not how it is. Things have changed, _we_ have changed, and a lot of it not for the better, but the best thing in this world, in any world, will _always_ be you. Even before. Before the fall, before the _war_ , you were the most important thing to me aside from my mother, and you _still_ are. If the world doesn't care about _Bucky Barnes_ , then I'll make it so it does, or leave it behind entirely, because _I care_ about you, Buck. _You_ matter the most to _me_.”

Bucky tries to blink back the tears forming in his eyes, feels his lower lip trembling and bites down on it roughly. “Steve,” he says, voice cracking, “But you don't _need_ me anymore,” he says plaintively, finally letting his insecurity out, fists clenching at his sides in the water.

Steve's eyes harden and he closes the space between them, coming to a stop so they're only inches away. He lifts his arms and wraps them around Bucky, pulling him into a firm, urgent hug that Bucky returns. “I will _always_ need you, Buck, always. Don't _ever_ think that I won't,” Steve says quietly, firmly, chin resting on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky takes in a deep, shuddering breath, pulling back just enough to look Steve in the eyes and read what's there. He lets out a small, pained sound in the back of his throat, tears finally spilling over at what he sees because Steve's _not_ lying, he's telling the truth, and it pierces through Bucky's heart like a warm dagger that he both wants to pull out _and_ push in deeper.

He grips Steve tighter and buries his face into Steve's neck, letting his tears mix with the water on Steve's skin. Bucky feels Steve's hand gently cup the back of his head, feels Steve's fingers slide through his wet hair and feels like he's something _important_ , not for the skills he has or his value on a team or on a mission or because of what he can, and has been made, to do, but because he's _himself_. Because he doesn't need to be anything for Steve, he just needs to be _him_.

They stay like that for a while, Steve's hand slowly sliding up and down his back in soothing motions, the action causing the water to ripple while also calming him down. They pull themselves out of the pool another little while later, use Bucky's t-shirt to dry Steve's legs off enough so that he can get back into his jeans. Bucky slips on his sweatpants and they head back to the elevator once Steve's dressed, Bucky's right hand held in Steve's left while Steve carries the whistle and mug in his other.

They head straight for Steve's apartment, Bucky holding Steve's hand the whole way with their fingers laced.

Steve sets the mug and whistle on the nightstand before he gently pulls Bucky onto the bed after him and they curl into each other on top of the sheets, Bucky's head tucked just under Steve's chin.

“Night, Stevie,” Bucky whispers quietly.

“Night, Buck,” Steve whispers in return, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Bucky's head and waiting until he hears Bucky's breathing even out before letting himself fall asleep after.

–

Steve wakes in the morning first, mouth full of Bucky's hair with Bucky half sprawled across him and snoring loudly. He spits the hair out of his mouth quietly before looking down at Bucky, whose head is on Steve's chest and right arm flung out across his middle. Steve smiles, leaning down to press a smiling kiss to the top of Bucky's head. Bucky shifts slightly, but doesn't wake, just burrows a little more into Steve.

Steve's eyes stay on him for a while before glancing up to the ceiling in thought, something occurring to him.

“JARVIS,” he says quietly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake up Bucky.

“ _Steve?_ ” JARVIS asks, just as quiet.

“Can you look some things up for me?” Steve asks, biting his lip for a moment before he finishes, “There's something I need to know.”

–

Bucky stirs about an hour later, slowly blinking his eyes open and giving a full body, cat-like stretch with a yawn pressed into Steve's chest, taking a moment to realize that Steve's warm arms are around him and that Steve has somehow managed to shift them both up enough so that Steve can lean back a bit against the bed's headboard without waking him.

He lifts his head, looking bleary eyed up at Steve who's smiling down at him, but it's a little strained at the corners and around his eyes. Bucky pushes himself up to sit, more alert, sheets disheveled underneath them. “What is it?” he asks, more awake now than he was a few seconds ago.

Steve looks at him for a long moment before looking down at the sheets on the bed, expression thoughtful and a little pinched. “I asked JARVIS to look into something for me while you were asleep,” Steve finally replies, voice quiet.

Bucky just watches him, waiting for him to continue.

“It's...” Steve trails off, letting out a sigh, “I asked him to look up the Howling Commandos and Peggy. I should have, a while ago, but things kept happening and then I...I forgot.” Steve lets out an unhappy sounding laugh, mouth twisting slightly at the end.

Bucky continues to watch him for a long moment before he lays back down over the top of Steve's chest, turning his head to rest the side of it near Steve's collarbone through his sweater, listening to his heart. “What did you find?” he asks, voice casual but quiet, not wanting to make things harder and trying to hide how much he actually wants to know.

Steve lets out another sigh, eyes on his lap while he rests his right arm around Bucky's shoulders. “They're all dead, all of them except Peggy,” he replies, voice quieter this time, “She's in Merryweather Winchester, United Kingdom. JARVIS was able to pull up her phone number, too.” Steve lets out another smaller, quieter laugh, but still unhappy sounding, “She's ninety-five, Buck.”

Bucky's quiet for a long while, absorbing and processing Steve's words.

All of them - gone. Dum Dum, Gabe, Dernier, Jim, Falsworth. Their friends. He's not sure how to feel except a little more empty. “Ninety-five. Still three years younger than I am, two younger than you,” he tries to joke, but it falls flat. “Do you want to see her?” he asks, voice still quiet.

Steve brings his hands up to scrub at his face with his palms, letting them drop back to the bed and Bucky's shoulders after. “I don't know,” he finally says, eyes looking down to Bucky, who looks back up, “I do and I don't. She's old now, Buck, as old as we are, but the _actual_ thing. She's not young anymore, won't be like how I remember her, not completely.” Steve's eyes shift back to his lap, clouding over in thought. Bucky just continues to watch him quietly, thinking it over.

“I won't tell you to go or not,” Bucky says after a few minutes of silence. Steve's eyes move back to his and Bucky drops his own to Steve's neck when he does. “But I think you should,” he continues after a silent moment, finally raising his eyes back up to Steve's, “She probably doesn't have much longer, and Hydra and the cold are coming. Now might be the only time we'll get to.”

Steve looks at him for a long moment before his eyes drop back to his lap, teeth biting into his lower lip in conflicted thought.

“I know,” Steve says after a few moments, thinking things over, “And part of me wishes Hydra would attack _now_ so I don't have to make the choice of going or not.” Steve raises the hand that's not on Bucky and slides his palm down his face, shaking his head slightly. “That might make me even more horrible than I already am, but I don't know if...I should see her now, with how either of us have turned out after over seventy years.”

Bucky watches him for a long moment before closing his eyes, letting out a near silent breath. “Maybe,” he admits softly, opening his eyes again to stare back at Steve's neck, “But maybe it's also something you both need, and maybe I might need it, too,” he finishes quietly. Their eyes meet again and Bucky can see Steve wavering. Honestly, seeing Peggy might...help Steve, help both of them. With what, he isn't sure, but it feels like something they need to do, some door that needs to be closed on their past lives.

Steve closes his eyes and lets out a long breath, leaning his head back against the headboard.

“Alright, we'll go,” Steve finally decides, voice still quiet.

“Alright,” Bucky agrees, closing his eyes again and settling down onto Steve's stomach and chest, Steve's heartbeat and breathing filling his ears.

–

“Wait, you want to do _what_?” Tony asks disbelievingly, pushing his welding helmet up on his head and looking between them, “I _know_ I don't need to tell you how much of a _bad idea_ that is.”

Steve glances at the ground for a moment before he raises his eyes back to Tony, squaring his shoulders as his expression goes determined. “I'm only asking because it would be easier with your help, Tony,” Steve says firmly, “We're going whether you help us or not.”

Tony looks to Bucky for help but his eyes are just as full of resolve and determination as Steve's are, which, really, Tony should have expected. Tony lets out a long sigh, unbending from over his current project and sitting up straighter on his stool. “Alright, fine. But we have to be careful about this, discreet. If Hydra gets word _at all_ that you're out of the safety zone of the Tower then we're going to run into more than a little trouble, which you already _know_ ,” Tony says, trying to change their minds one last time.

Steve just continues to stare Tony down and Bucky's expression goes a little unimpressed, eyebrow raised because _clearly_ no one can change Steve's mind when it's already made up and Tony's _obviously_ an _idiot_ for trying.

Tony brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “JARVIS,” he says to the room at large, lowering his hand, “Get a plane ready and contact Pepper, we're going to need a cover story.”

“ _Right away, Sir_.”

–

They're on a Stark Industries private jet within the hour, swept away across the ocean with nothing but a duffel bag between them carrying one pair of a change of clothes each, three guns, and five knives. Tony gave them each untraceable Stark Phones (traceable only by JARVIS) in case something happens, and both Steve and Bucky have them tucked away into their jeans' pockets.

Tony's jet gets them there in at least half the time as a regular flight, but it's still a long, nerve wracking few hours. Tony tries his best to get them both drunk with his jet's pre-stocked alcohol supply while _Finding Nemo_ plays on the large screen tv, but they go through all of the alcohol and it's unsuccessful, so Tony ends up throwing his hands in the air in defeat and mimicking Dori on the whole second watch through.

Bucky leans against his side, shoulder to shoulder with him with his arm looped through Steve's and their fingers locked, resting his head on Steve's shoulder and giving Steve's hand a gentle squeeze to try and calm him down every time the ' _what if's_ ' and ' _could have's_ ' start to overwhelm him and Bucky hears his heartbeat spike. Bucky makes quiet comments during the movie throughout the flight (“Want to touch _the butt_ , Steve?” “We es-cap-ey'd from Hydra like Dori and Marlin with those sharks,” and “Clint is _our_ _friend, not target practice_ , although sometimes...”) that manage to make Steve crack a smile and sometimes even give a low, quiet laugh. Bucky smiles and laughs with him, and it helps.

The plane lands and Tony unboards first, drawing all of the attention of the cameras and reporters that had managed to find out that he flew over. He draws their attention as he walks away from the plane and Steve and Bucky can both hear him telling some some story about super model triplets and bungy jumping off of the Eiffel Tower in winter in his underwear and how his, “ _balls_ were as _blue_ as _Dori. Nevermind_ , inside joke.”

They wait until the plane's been brought around into Stark's hangar and a private car brought up next to it before Bucky takes the duffel and they exit the plane, their disguises consist of Steve's fake glasses and hat with Bucky's sunglasses and his own hat. Steve's dressed in a dark blue jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans while Bucky's in a black, leather jacket, black t-shirt, and a darker pair of jeans with a glove on his left hand. Natasha tried getting them both, or at least Steve, into a wig and a dress, commenting that he, “should be comfortable with it since I've read in one of your _Captain America_ comics that you pulled it off before.” Steve had declined, cheeks hot while Bucky had just laughed and said, “I wouldn't mind getting into a corset again, it does things for my figure.” Natasha had just smirked and left them to it after Bucky's attempts to get his hair into a proper bun resulted in him almost, somehow Chinese finger trapping his own fingers with a hair tie.

Steve climbs into the cars' backseat and Bucky climbs in after him, setting the duffel down between them. Bucky pulls the door closed behind him and then the car's moving.

It doesn't take them very long to get to Winchester itself since they landed nearby, and it's just a short drive from there to Merryweather. All of the cars' windows are tinted so they're free to look around, but they both keep their heads angled down anyway, just to be cautious. Steve's heartbeat starts picking up again the closer they get to their destination and his nerves are frayed. Bucky takes Steve's left hand in his own right one and gives it another squeeze before bringing it up to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss to the back of it. Steve forces himself to take a few deep breaths and to try to relax without thinking of it as a mission. He's only a little successful.

The car pulls up the drive of a large, old looking house. Something in a style that you could never find in the States, at least not something that's actually as old as it looks with the history to back it up. Steve's stuck staring up at it after the car parks in front, frozen in place and going over everything he might say or might _not_ say. He's not even sure how he should even start the conversation. Bucky gives his hand another gentle squeeze, drawing Steve's attention to him.

Bucky just looks at him, long and with more patience than he shows anyone else, and after a long moment Steve nods. Bucky nods back before Steve turns towards his door and grips the handle, taking a steadying breath before he pulls on it and pushes the door itself open, climbing out with Bucky following into the afternoon sun, duffel bag in Bucky's hand (taking it with him because he still doesn't trust anyone, and it's safer to have their supplies on them).

Pepper had been the one to speak with Peggy's niece about them visiting, and had informed them that her niece would have the house cleared of everyone save herself and Peggy for an hour, but would not do so for a second longer due to Peggy's health. Pepper also said that she had to at least tell Peggy's niece that it was Steve who was visiting, which neither Steve, and especially Bucky, were happy about, but Peggy's niece wouldn't let them in to see Peggy otherwise considering who Peggy was and her health, so both Steve and Bucky had agreed to it, Steve surprisingly more reluctantly than Bucky. Pepper said she managed to keep Bucky from being named, but given how well known they _both_ were, Steve was sure Peggy's niece would probably end up recognizing him anyway.

The front door opens as soon as they reach the top step, a young woman with various, subtle features that Steve recognizes as Peggy's in her face, her body, and the way she holds herself ( _trained, subtle, and confident_ ), with blond hair that goes a little past her shoulders in sparse, gentle waves. Her brown eyes are a little wide as she looks back at him ( _the same color as Peggy's_ ), widening a little further when they fall on Bucky standing to Steve's left who looks back at her over the top of his sunglasses, raising a hand to press his index finger briefly to his lips in the universal gesture for silence. She schools her expression and steps aside. “Come in,” she says, and Steve does, Bucky following right behind him with their duffel bag. She closes the door behind them before coming back around to their front, her eyes landing on the bag before going back up to Bucky, who cocks an eyebrow.

“Trust me, if I wanted to kill Peggy I wouldn't need what's inside this bag,” Bucky says, and Steve sees Peggy's niece stiffen.

“Bucky,” Steve says quietly, chiding, sending him a look.

“What?” Bucky asks, shrugging, “It's true.”

Steve sighs quietly, looking back at Peggy's niece. “I'm sorry, but the list of people we trust is shorter than any of us would like, and we haven't actually been around many people in...a while,” he says a little awkwardly before holding a hand out, “I'm Steve.”

She looks from Steve, to Bucky, then back to Steve again, studying him for a long moment before she lets out a quiet breath and reaches forward to shake his hand, finding something there ( _or maybe going off of something Peggy might have told her about him_ ) that she can at least trust enough for this. “Sharon,” she replies before letting go, and Steve lets his hand drop back to his side, remaining still to let Bucky know he's fine, who he sees relax a little further out of the corner of his eye. If she had pricked Steve's skin with anything in the handshake he would have tensed to let Bucky know, sometimes that's all you really have time for with certain poisons. They really don't trust many.

“Before you see her, there's something both of you should know,” Sharon starts, drawing their attention back to her, “Her condition is a form of Dementia. Sometimes she'll remember things for days, sometimes minutes. I'm just warning you ahead of time. The conversation you have with her could last for hours, or it might have to restart in a matter of moments.” Sharon's voice is firm, but there's a sadness to her eyes that says she knows this from experience.

Steve swallows and takes a breath, giving a nod that he sees Bucky echo out of the corner of his eye. Sharon returns it before turning and leading them down the long hall straight ahead, Steve and Bucky following on silent footsteps. Her own are quiet, far more quiet than normal. She's definitely trained. It's not much of a surprise, considering who her aunt is, which leads Steve to guess who she might work for. He glances to Bucky while her back's to them and can see that he's thinking the same thing.

Peggy's in a large, old styled, cozy yet elegant ground floor bedroom with large windows opposite the bedroom door. Sharon opens the door to it and calls, “Aunt Peggy,” from just inside the door frame, and Steve hears slow breathing, the beeping of monitors, and gently shifting sheets.

“What is it, dear?” Peggy asks, and her voice sounds the same, but fainter, older, like paper left outside a little too long that had to face the wind and rain. Steve bites his lower lip, feels the back of Bucky's right hand brush against his left one a moment later and takes a breath.

“Your visitors are here,” Sharon says calmly, not letting anything color her tone; her worry, her questions, her suspicions.

“Ah, the mysterious visitors you won't tell me the names of but assure me that I know,” Peggy says a little primly, and Steve has to crack a small smile.

Sharon smiles as well before looking over at him where he's just out of sight of the doorway, giving him a nod before backing out of the room.

Steve takes one more steadying breath before he walks forward and steps inside, eyes quickly sweeping across the rest of the room that he couldn't see before and finally landing on Peggy, stopping in place as his breath catches in his throat. He can hear hers do the same as soon as she sees him.

“Steve...?” Peggy asks, even with the glasses and hat on. Steve reaches up slowly to take them off, folding the glasses numbly before shoving them into one of his front coat pockets so that he doesn't end up crushing them. “ _Steve_ ,” Peggy says urgently, surprise and shock in her voice and eyes wide, the monitoring machine beeps spiking. She's older now, so much older, hair still elegant, but white instead of brown, skin still soft looking but wrinkled and lined with age. She's in a white sleeping gown in a reclining bed, beeping and monitoring machines on her left and photos on the nightstand to her right, sheets pulled up to her chest. For all that she's different, though, Steve can still see her as she was, there in her eyes, because even though her eyes have aged as well, they still hold that defiant fire that always made her _Peggy_.

“Hi, Peggy,” Steve says quietly, a little forced since the air is still trapped somewhere down in his lungs, “And it really is me, before you ask,” he continues, watching her carefully. The machine beeps gradually decrease to something closer to resting.

She just looks at him for a few, long, terrifying moments while Steve's starts second guessing ever coming, starting to wonder if she's forgetting him again already, or if she's already forgotten him completely. But before he can get too far backtracking everything and worrying himself into the ground, she raises a shaky hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I know it's you,” she says quietly, shakily, “I'd know you anywhere.” And Steve crosses to her in a few quick strides, dropping the hat to the floor so that he can take her hand gently between both of his own and bend down to press a gentle kiss to her frail knuckles.

“I'm _so sorry_ , Peggy, I'm so sorry,” he says quickly, voice hushed, closing his eyes against the sting at the backs and the tears welling in them, the tightness in his throat.

“ _Oh, Steve_ ,” she says softly, and there's wonder in her voice, and so much more.

He straightens back up after a long moment, reaching back behind him for the chair sat next to the bed and pulling it closer, taking a seat. He never lets go of her hand.

“I'm just glad that you're here,” she says quietly, and they both manage to keep the tears back.

“I am, too,” he says, just as quiet, and means it.

“How did you- How are you _here_?” she asks after a moment, eyes searching his when he doesn't immediately reply.

Steve lowers his eyes after a few moments, unable to hold her searching gaze. “It's a long story, and not a pleasant one,” Steve says quietly, looking up when she squeezes his hand.

“But the train,” she says, remembering, “You fell. You and Bucky- We searched later but there was _nothing_ , no sign but a poorly covered trail of blood that ended after a few feet. I thought maybe you two had survived, slim as the chances were, but no one ever heard from either of you again- Not until now.”

Steve's eyes dart to the doorway briefly, knowing Bucky's probably listening, before going back to the sheets, squeezing her hand back gently before looking up. “Hydra. They weren't who first found me, but in the end it was Hydra,” he finally says, and her expression goes stricken before hardening.

“What did they do to you,” she demands, and he can't help the small smile that slips onto his face at that, because she sounds just the same, like if she had to she would burn the whole world to the ground for justice. “ _Steve_ ,” she presses, and he clears his throat.

“A lot of things,” he answers before meeting her eyes again, “But it wasn't just me.”

Her eyes widen slightly before they dart to the doorway, schooling her expression after a moment. “ _Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes_ ,” she calls out, and Steve can just hear Bucky's arm whirring from out in the hall, “You get yourself in here,” she demands, voice stern, and Steve can suddenly hear the years she spent raising her children. His eyes dart to the photographs on the nightstand for a moment, studying them briefly.

Steve hears Bucky's quiet footsteps after a moment and glances up just as he steps in through the doorway, setting the bag down just inside the door before reaching up and pulling his own hat and sunglasses off as he after, eyes rising from the floor to hers after also quickly sweeping the room like Steve had. He tucks his sunglasses into his jacket pocket, also like Steve, holding the baseball cap in his left hand.

Peggy's breath catches quietly and her eyes widen again before she schools her expression once more, raising an eyebrow at Bucky.

Bucky shifts slightly under her unwavering stare, uncomfortable. “Hello, Agent Carter,” he says quietly, still forcing himself to meet her gaze.

“Mr. Barnes,” she starts, voice stern, and Steve's trying hard to keep his smile off of his face, he really is, “Were you planning to just stand out there in that hall the whole bloody time _without coming in to see me_?”

Bucky's eyes widen slightly before darting to Steve, looking for help.

Steve just leans back in the chair, still holding Peggy's hand with a smile on his face.

Bucky sends him a dark look before looking back to Peggy. She stares him down for a few long moments before he finally lets out a defeated breath, crossing the room to stand on Peggy's left. “And miss seeing you? Not a chance,” he starts, pulling up an honest grin. Steve can see he means it, too, even if he _is_ uncomfortable. “I would _never,_ ” Bucky finishes, making a cross over his heart with his right index finger.

Peggy angles her head slightly, primly, before smiling. “That's more like it,” she says, offering her other hand for Bucky to take, which he does with his free right hand. She lets out a quiet sigh. “My boys, finally back from the war,” she says contentedly, a warm smile on her face as she looks at the both of them, and Steve and Bucky return it, “ _You're late_.” And Steve lets out a watery laugh, Bucky and Peggy joining in a moment later.

–

Between the two of them they do manage to tell her the whole story, after they both subtly sweep the room for bugs, listening devices, heat signature readers, Peggy looking at them like she knows what they're doing but understands the necessity of it. Bucky keeps an ear out for Sharon's footsteps, but they're far enough away that he keeps talking.

Peggy's eyes go wide and then sad at Bucky's left arm and Steve's right leg, she shakes with anger when she finds out about Hydra having been in S.H.I.E.L.D. (“I fought to have it named after you,” she tells Steve, and he has to blink back his surprise and tears), and by the end of it she's got tears streaming down her face that neither of them point out nor draw attention to. She still, after all, has her pride. But she listens, she listens to all of it and lets them fill her in on how they passed the seventy years since they last talked to or even saw her, and grips their hands tightly.

She tells them of her life when they ask, after they've told her theirs. She tells them of children and grandchildren and a niece. She tells them of Howard and S.H.I.E.L.D., the Howling Commandos, and Nick Fury. She also tells them of Alexander Pierce and The World Security Council, but they like listening to her talk more about her family the most. She tells them of how she defied the ways of the forties and made her own path as a single woman working as an undercover, covert agent.

Steve's eyes go to the photographs again at the end of it all and he smiles soft, looking back to find her watching him, eyes sad but warm all the same. “You've lived a full life, Peggy,” he says softly, “And it's beautiful, _they're_ beautiful.” She smiles in return at him and Bucky's eyes go to the windows to give them some small form, _any_ form, of privacy, since she's not letting his hand go and he won't leave unless they want him to.

“I wish you could have lead the same, even if it was with someone else,” she says just as soft, eyes glancing to Bucky.

Bucky feels his cheeks warm which catches him by surprise, he's not often shy, not openly.

Steve smiles at him and Bucky shifts slightly, looking between the two of them. “We are, even in the middle of war, we are,” Steve replies quietly with a warm smile, and Bucky's lips twitch up into one in return, a warm feeling in his chest that spreads throughout his body.

Peggy lets out a quiet sigh after a few moments of silence, drawing their attention back to her. She shifts a little and closes her eyes for a moment, and Steve leans forward in his chair in concern.

“I'm just tired,” she answers Steve's unspoken question, after opening her eyes, “I may still be a looker, but I'm not as young as I used to be,” she finishes with a confident look, and Steve smiles.

“You'll always be a looker, Ms. Carter,” Bucky says playfully, but honestly. Peggy angles her head again.

“Are you coming onto me Mr. Barnes,” she says playfully in return, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky smirks, angling his own head. “Of course I am, have been since I first laid eyes on you in that bar,” he replies.

Peggy laughs quietly, letting her grip on his hand go so she can pat it gently. “Don't think I didn't know what you were doing that night, either,” she says with a knowing look.

Bucky's eyes widen slightly before he scoffs, ignoring Steve's confused expression. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he returns.

“Oh, I think you do,” Peggy replies knowingly, eyes glancing to Steve, “And I thank you, for doing what you did,” she finishes seriously, eyes back on him.

Bucky's expression goes serious as he looks back, giving her a nod.

“I don't understand,” Steve finally says, expression still confused.

Peggy releases her grip on Steve's hand so she can pat his as well. “Oh, Steve,” she says fondly, a smile on her face, “Bucky never wanted to dance with _me_ ,” is all she says.

Steve stares at her for a long moment before his eyes widen slightly, glancing between the two of them. “Oh,” he says after a moment, blinking, “ _Oh. Bucky_ ,” he says on a slight whine, making the both of them laugh.

Peggy lets out a yawn, covering her mouth with a hand. Steve stands up, bending down for a moment to retrieve his hat. “We should probably be going,” Steve says quietly, looking down at her like he doesn't want to. Bucky knows the feeling. “We only got an hour, and it's almost up,” Steve finishes, still quiet.

Peggy looks back up at him, eyes slowly drifting between the two of them before she closes them for a moment, smiling to herself before opening them up again. “Yes, you probably should,” she finally says, voice quiet, a little sad and a little wistful, “Go. Stop Hydra once and for all and then find a place where you can have easy days like this. The rest you both deserve,” she says sincerely, honestly.

Bucky blinks back against the sting at the backs of his eyes, can see Steve doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Bucky has the feeling that this is the last time either of them will see her in this life, and who knows if there's anything past that.

Steve nods once, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She closes her eyes as he does, letting out a quiet breath that sounds like she's been holding it in for over seventy years. She reaches up at the last moment, just as Steve starts to straighten, and pulls his face in closer to hers, turning his head so she can whisper something quietly into his ear. It's too quiet for Bucky to hear.

Steve glances at Bucky once while she does before straightening back up, looking down at her with a determined expression and blinking back the tears in his eyes, giving her a nod. “I'm honored. And I will,” he says, a promise, and Bucky's on alert, because promises for them are rare things.

Steve softly smiles down at her one more time, taking her hand again gently to press a soft kiss to the back of it before setting it back down on the bedding with care, putting his hat on and heading for the door. He reaches in to pull his glasses out of his coat pocket and slips them back on as he goes.

Bucky turns to follow but stops at her quiet, “James,” turning back around to look at her.

Her expression is soft but firm, gentle but determined, eyes full of the kind of authority that doesn't belong in an outside-the-government organization, but in a home full of family and friends, children and laughter. He swallows.

“You take care of him,” she says, and he opens his mouth to reply, “ _Of course_ ,” before she cuts him off, “And you let _him_ take care of _you_ ,” she finishes. And Bucky closes his mouth, staring down at her for a long moment.

“You coming, Buck?” Steve calls back from down the hall. He sounds like he's at the front door.

“Yes,” Bucky calls back in answer, but not just to Steve, his eyes still on Peggy as he says it. She smiles up at him and he smiles back, taking the step back to her bed to lean down and brush his own lips gently across her forehead, whispering, “Ma'am.” She smiles up at him when he straightens back up and gives him a nod. He returns it before giving a lazy salute and turning back around, heading for the door. He slips the baseball cap back on and pulls his sunglasses out of his pocket, sliding them back on before picking up the duffel bag as he leaves the room.

He reaches Steve, who _is_ waiting at the front door, and looks back at him when he gets there, Steve's eyes already on him.

“You ready?” Steve asks with a small smile. He looks lighter.

Bucky nods, smiling in return. “Yes,” he repeats from earlier, and finds that hers is one order that he _wants_ to follow, only the second in his life, “Yes. I am.”

Steve opens the door and they step out into the afternoon sun.

“She named one of her sons ' _Steve_ ,'” Steve says, quiet enough so that only Bucky can hear once they're back in the car and it's crunching its way down the gravelly driveway.

Bucky blinks, turning his head to look at Steve from where he'd been looking out the window.

Steve looks back at him, smiling. “And she named the other one ' _James_ ,'” Steve finishes, voice still quiet.

Bucky blinks against the returning sting at the backs of his eyes before grinning wide. Steve's eyes are a little watery, but he grins broadly back just the same, and there's something like relief, love, and pride in his eyes.

–

_Before they left:_

Tony spins around on his stool once on a beat, tapping the rest out with his foot on the stool's foot-bar as he bends back over to screw something into place in time with the music playing throughout his workshop overhead.

He doesn't hear Pepper come in, but he does hear her heels _click clack_ against the concrete floor when she comes closer, gently resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I haven't heard this song since the 90's,” she says over the music, and Tony huffs, ordering JARVIS to lower the volume while straightening up from his work table.

“Barnes has developed a taste for pop music. Clearly it's contagious and _entirely_ his fault,” Tony replies, setting his wrench down on the table before spinning the stool towards her.

“Oh, clearly,” she replies with a knowing smile, hand shifting up to slide back through his hair once. He closes his eyes as she does, reveling in her touch.

The chorus plays and Tony opens his eyes back up, leaning back slightly as she lowers her hand.

 

“ _Now let me show me the shape of my heart_ ”

 

Tony circles a finger around the center of his chest in the shape of an arc reactor and points to Pepper with a dopey grin. Pepper smiles back before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

 

“ _Show you the shape of my heart_ ”


	18. The Lost Loves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sings Everyoooooooone is going to hate meeeeeeee I AM SO SORRYYYYYYYYYYYY
> 
> Title; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=205Kl-W7qKM
> 
> Also the rainbow cookies are all Gina's fault.

 Steve's Stark phone vibrates in his pocket on the drive out of Merryweather, and he slips it, sliding his finger across the screen to unlock it and read the text messages.

 

_**Starkster:** goin 2 b a while press wont unhand me im hot stuff_

_**Starkster:** entertain yourselves shouldnt b 2 **hard** ;)_

 

Steve snorts quietly before typing out a reply, Bucky glancing over at him.

 

_**Capsicle:** It amazes me that you're **supposedly** a genius but you text like a five year old._

 

Steve stares at the name for a second before changing it, firing off another text to Tony.

 

_**S:** “Capsicle,” **ha ha very funny**._

 

He glances over to Bucky, who's got a raised eyebrow. “What does Stark want?” Bucky asks.

Steve turns the phone towards him and Bucky leans in slightly as he reads it, letting out a snort of his own. “I'm sure we'll think of _something_ to do with ourselves,” Bucky says with a leer at Steve, who pockets the phone with his own raised back, “Really shouldn't be too hard. Or, well, I guess it _should_ be,” Bucky finishes, eyebrows jumping a few times with a lewd smirk.

Steve manages to keep a straight face for all of five seconds before he laughs quietly, shaking his head slightly while ignoring the vibration of his phone in his pocket. “Between the two of you and Clint, I'm not sure who's the best at coming up with innuendos,” Steve says, looking out the window.

He hears Bucky scoff and shift in his seat slightly. He looks over out of the corner of his eye to see that Bucky's crossed his arms over his chest. “Me, _obviously_ ,” Bucky replies, silent for a moment while he looks straight ahead, lips pursing in thought, “Okay. _Natalia_ is first, and it counts even though Stark has _shamefully_ never heard her tell a crude joke in Russian.” Steve laughs a little and Bucky grins at him. “ _I'm_ second the best, Clint's third the worst, Tony's fourth, and I refuse to call him 'king,'” Bucky says mock seriously, and Steve laughs again while Bucky's phone vibrates. Bucky uncrosses his arms and pulls it out, sliding the pad of his thumb across the screen to unlock it.

Steve watches him as he texts, Bucky's eyes widening slightly after a moment before he scrunches his face up and texts faster.

“What is it?” Steve asks, and Bucky glances at him before turning the screen towards Steve, turning his own face away to look out the window with a slight blush on his cheeks.

 

_**Starkster:** bucky **bucky** steves ignoring me tell him he needs to pull the stick out of his ass and appreciate my texting skillz_

_**Starkster:** or rather u should pull that stick out of his ass i thought you would have by now_

_**Starkster:** bucky dont make me make that driver pull that car over_

_**Starkster:** because i will_

_**Bucksicle:** bucksicle stark waht teh fuck_

_**Bucksicle:** shit shut up stark_

_**Starkster:** XDDD_

_**Barnes:** I will **end** you_

 

Steve lets out a laugh while Bucky's cheeks go a another shade of embarrassed red. Bucky pulls the phone back to him and stuffs it back into his pocket.

The car ends up taking them to the main 'hot spots' of Winchester, starting with Winchester Cathedral. They enter on the tail end of a small tourist group, both of their heads subtly angled down until they get far enough inside they can slow their pace to a stop and detach from the group without drawing attention. Steve's eyes slowly drag up to the ceiling, mouth parting slightly as he nudges Bucky's left arm with his elbow. Bucky's eyes snap to him before following his gaze, head tilting back like Steve's as they both stare up at the ceiling.

“That's really something, Stevie,” Bucky says, voice hushed.

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve replies, eyes taking in the tall, sweeping pillars, the detailing in the high arching ceiling.

It's quiet, the room empty of seating and only the sounds of echoed, shuffling footsteps, the occasional quiet chatter, and breathing filling the space, accompanied by the every so often sound of a camera phone shuttering as it snaps a picture. They keep part of their attention on those in particular, just in case. They don't want to get caught in Winchester just because they were too absorbed in the architecture to avoid a tourist photograph.

“ _The work of man_ ,” Bucky muses lowly in Russian, and Steve turns his head to the side to look at him. Bucky keeps staring up. “ _Not always the creators of terrible beasts and war_. Not all bad,” he finishes in English, eyes dropping to look straight before he turns his head and his eyes shift to look over at Steve.

Steve stares back for a little while, gets caught up staring into blue-gray before he forces himself to look forward, Bucky doing the same a moment later.

“When was the last time we properly went to church?” Bucky asks, voice still lowered.

“The Sunday before you had to head off to basic,” Steve answers, voice lowered as well, “For luck, or something,” he finishes a little sarcastically, irony laced in his voice.

Bucky lets out a laugh, covering his mouth with a hand to try and stifle it when they get a few looks. “No wonder we haven't gone back since,” Bucky says, quiet laughter still in his voice.

Steve huffs a small laugh. “Yeah,” he replies, eyes going over the ridges in the pillars.

“Do you still believe?” Bucky asks a little quieter after a few moments of looking out at the expansive room, and Steve turns his head again to look at him. “In God?” Steve asks.

“In anything,” Bucky says, turning his own to look back at Steve again.

Steve stares at him for a moment before his eyes shift back to the large, open space of the cathedral, going over the pillars, the section opposite them across the long, large space, the ceiling, and the people inside. Finally, his eyes go back to Bucky, who's still watching him. “I don't know,” Steve replies honestly, glancing at the ground for a moment before looking back up at Bucky, “I've seen a lot of things since then, been through a lot, have had things done to me and done things myself.” Steve's quiet for a minute, glancing down again as he collects his thoughts. Bucky waits, patient. “It's a lot to go through, and asking me to still believe after everything is a lot. I don't know if I can,” Steve continues, voice quiet, but not hesitant, “But there is one thing I know - I'm sure I do believe in, and that's you,” Steve says, looking back up at Bucky, who's eyes widen, “And you make me - help me - believe in myself. Believe in people, too. Not _all_ people, but a few, and that's more than enough.”

Bucky stares back at him for a bit, finally looking down at their hands as he reaches over and takes a hold of Steve's, gentle at first before he tightens his grip, and Steve returns it. “I'm not sure about 'believing in other people,'” Bucky says quietly before looking back up at Steve, “Or believing in God. But I do believe in you. I always have.”

Steve's throat goes a little tight but he manages a small smile, giving a slight nod before Bucky turns back for the doors and leads them out of the cathedral, the sound of echoed, shuffling footsteps, chattering, and camera phones left behind.

They don't visit the well known ' _Flooded Crypt_ ,' they've both had enough of that symbolism in their lives and don't feel like they'd be missing much.

The driver takes them to Winchester Castle and the Hospital of St. Cross next, but they keep their visits short. The places are similar to the cathedral. Different, yes, but they give off the same sort of vibe and possess a similar atmosphere, so they don't stay long. Besides, both places remind them of parts of their pasts in their own ways. The Castle reminds them both of the cathedral and early morning mass on Sundays back when they were both so much younger, back when they both had their own families before they lost them too soon. The hospital reminds Steve of his mother, of her coming home late when she worked as a nurse and later when she was sick, coughing up blood before dying of TB. No, they don't stay long.

Tony has the driver take them back to the airplane hangar after sending them both a text saying he, “ _finally got rid of the vultures trying to peck at my glamorous corpse_ ,” in his lazy typing, and they sneak back onto the plane under the cover of the hangar two hours before Tony says he's going to show up, just to be safe. They put Snow White on the large screen tv and share popcorn that they've made that they set in Steve's lap, fingers laced between them.

They don't say much during the movie. Sometimes they'll reminisce or share quiet stories, Bucky saying, “Remember the first time we saw it? We ended up not eating any of the popcorn we got so caught up in it,” and, “I didn't go home with Lucy because she wouldn't stop talking during Snow White's song,” to which Steve replies, “Yeah I remember. By the third time we'd seen it we were singing most of the songs back at the apartment,” and, “Yeah, I remember you saying, 'Stevie, never date a dame who interrupts Snow White's singing'.”

Sometimes they'll make comments on the movie and try to decide which of the dwarves the Avengers would be. “Bruce is doc and Tony's Sneezy,” Bucky says.

“That makes you Grumpy,” Steve replies.

“Yeah, well you're _Dopey_ ,” Bucky fires back, and they both grin.

Steve's eyes roam the lines and the incredibly smooth movement of the animation, finding that it still stands out on a completely different level even when compared with one of the later Disney movies, _all_ of the later Disney movies, and quietly says as much. Bucky hums his agreement, and sometimes points out at certain scenes that Steve's art is better. “Your architecture is more sturdy,” he says, and, “You could draw her hair like it's made of feathers, I've seen you do it.” They both whistle along to “Heigh-ho,” and grin like the children they sometimes, miraculously, still manage to be.

Bucky replays the movie when it reaches the end and leans his head on Steve's shoulder, popcorn long finished and both of them emotionally exhausted. Steve leans into Bucky's shoulder in return before resting his cheek on the top of his head, letting his eyes drift closed of their own accord. His breathing evens out before Bucky's.

The door to the plane opens up sometime later and they both wake, sitting up a little straighter from where they've both gotten comfortable as Tony comes flying in, thoughts of teasing Tony grinding to a halt at the urgent look on his face. They both sit up all the way before getting to their feet, suddenly more awake and more alert.

“Tony, what is it?” Steve asks, his mind flashing to Hydra, and then to the only four possible reasons they could be here.

“It's Carter- Agent Carter,” Tony replies levelly, voice still urgent, and Steve freezes as the blood in his veins runs cold, “Her house, it...It blew up. It's been blown up. It's gone.”

Steve's breath catches in his throat, and distantly he can hear Bucky's do the same, but all he can think is, ' _But I just **saw** her_.' And then it hits him like a collapsing building, 'That's right, _I_ saw her.' They brought Hydra to her door.

Everyone's silent for a long few moments, Tony watching Steve and Bucky and Bucky watching Steve.

“Steve,” Bucky says quietly, and Steve shifts slightly, stands up a little straighter. Bucky can see his jaw tense as he grits his teeth.

Steve tries to dart for the door a second later but Bucky's on him like a shot almost as soon as he does, having braced himself for it, and holds Steve back with his left arm across Steve's chest and right one wrapped around his middle.

“Let go! I need to-” Steve cuts off, breaths rapid. Because there isn't anything he _can_ really do.

Bucky looks to Tony for more information, but Tony's shoulders slump and he just shakes his head. Steve lets out a pained noise in the back of his throat before his struggles stop, sagging back slightly against Bucky's front. Bucky starts to let him go after a few moments, watching him, but Steve doesn't run for the door. As soon as he is free, however, he does dart to one of the windows of the plane facing Merryweather, eyes locking on the smoke trailing into the sky in the distance, pressing his hand to the glass.

Bucky watches him for a moment before looking back to Tony. “What about her niece, Sharon?” Bucky asks quietly. He hears Steve struggle to control his rapid breathing and Bucky can tell he's trying to pull himself together, to keep himself from reacting as much as he already has and contain whatever else wants to be let out.

“Sharon's fine, she made it out,” Tony replies immediately, shifting slightly after a moment's pause, “But Agent Carter didn't.”

Steve finally takes a slow, deep breath before nodding slightly, moving across the short isle and sitting back down in his seat. “Let's head back,” Steve says quietly, voice controlled.

Bucky watches him carefully, sees how Steve shuts himself down and his expression goes blank, and he gets it, he does. He sends Tony a look when it looks like Tony's about to say something, shaking his head slightly, and Tony closes his mouth into a firm, grim line, turning back around and heading for the pilot area.

Bucky takes a slow seat next to Steve and leaves his right hand angled toward Steve in offer, but he doesn't touch him otherwise. Steve's body gives a full shiver and Bucky hears his breath hitch quietly as he starts hunching inwards, mask cracking before he stiffens and forces himself to sit up straight again back against the seat, eyes going dull and cold once more. Bucky bites the inside of his lip and shifts his eyes back to the movie.

The plane starts rolling and he turns the movie off. He can't bare the sight of it now, is sure that Steve can't either, if he's allowing himself to feeling anything at all.

–

They land a few hours later and Steve's eyes open from where they had closed at some point during the flight in an attempt at meditation and stillness, body held stiff. They both get up as soon as the plane lands and Tony practically flies out the door as soon as the stairs unstack out to the pavement outside, once again acting as a distraction to draw away the attention of anyone who might be watching, obvious about it or not.

They both wait stiffly just out of sight of the jet's entryway, silent. Bucky can tell Steve's pent up, almost vibrating in place with restless, barely restrained energy and emotion.

Steve immediately moves as soon as the car sent for them comes up next to the plane, Bucky following silently behind him with their duffel bag in hand. Steve climbs into the car and Bucky closes the door after he does as well, the drive back even more tense and silent than the one on the plane had been.

As soon as they're in the parking garage Steve's opening the door and stepping out before the car's even stopped, placing his foot down at an angle so that he doesn't trip while the car moves and Bucky hurries to follow, not missing a step and not tripping either. He follows Steve to the elevator, nearly matching his slightly longer strides and slipping past the doors.

“JARVIS, clear one of the training rooms,” Steve demands in a monotone, and Bucky can hear the barely restrained emotions still lying underneath it, bubbling. Can hear how quickly he's unraveling and see it from the glances he gets at Steve's eyes.

“ _Yes, Steve_ ,” JARVIS replies, and Bucky thinks the AI sounds a little tense. Bucky's sure JARVIS knows what happened to Peggy, it almost always seems to know things before they do.

Steve's stepping out as soon as the doors are open far enough for him to do so and Bucky's almost on his heels as he tries to keep up, trying to stay close but not _too_ close.

“ _The left room, Sir_ ,” JARVIS instructs from overhead as they head down the hall, and Steve follows the directions and turns left, stepping past the open doorway of the large room. Bucky stops just past it long enough to close and lock the door behind them, watching Steve shed his jacket and let it drop to the floor as he heads straight for the punching bag. It goes flying after the second hit and Steve lets out an angry, frustrated sound.

Bucky walks over, calmly shedding his jacket as well and dropping it on top of Steve's as he does. Steve turns towards him at the sound of leather and metal hitting the smooth, gym floor just outside of the large sparring mat that he's on and watches him intently like prey.

Bucky pauses and pulls his boots off first, Steve following suit with his own after a moment before Steve tosses them to the side with far less control of his strength than usual. Steve's boots skid across the smooth floor outside of the mat, loud in the silence.

As soon as Bucky's stepped onto the mat and gotten into position Steve's charging him, moving in quick with a punch that Bucky blocks with his forearm and a spun kick that Bucky also blocks with his own leg. Bucky doesn't dodge them, because the lack of impact will only rile Steve up further and Bucky knows that he needs to _hit_ something that can take it, so Bucky will be that for him.

Steve spins again before jabbing out at him with a pointed strike, fingers rigid and pointed out, not in a fist, and Bucky locks it between his ribs and bicep while darting his fist in like a viper and hitting the back of it against the side of Steve's face.

Steve grits his teeth but leans to the side with the motion, twisting his arm painfully out of the grip Bucky has on it with a growl.

Bucky keeps up with him for a while, moving quick, their fight more him aiming to take impacts from Steve's painfully fast strikes than a dance. Steve's movements become rougher, quickly losing finesse and speeding up to an almost blur the closer his emotions get to the surface and it makes it both easier and harder for Bucky to keep up. The lack of technique is easier to defend against, but the increased, reckless speed makes it harder for him to defend himself _and_ do it in a way that won't end up hurting Steve too badly as a result.

Steve throws another punch at him with a yell, and Bucky's eyes widen slightly when Steve gets his face in close. “Stop trying to protect me!” he yells, and Bucky's mouth goes into a grim line. So, it's going to be like that, anyway, isn't it.

Bucky catches Steve's next fist in his left one and twists, hears bones dislodge and break as he spins around and aims an elbow at Steve's solar plexus. Steve doesn't avoid it, just lets the jab hit him and the air whoosh out of his lungs from the impact, just barely managing to dodge Bucky's next fist and land a kick into Bucky's side.

Bucky's breath is forced out with the impact, two ribs cracking under the force and he makes himself move with it, spins and lands a punch and kick rapidly quick on Steve, his own teeth gritting and eyes going the sort of wild that Steve's already are.

Steve manages to get a hold of Bucky's hair in a fist and yanks Bucky's face down into the metal underneath his jeans of his right knee, breaking Bucky's nose before spinning a kick into the side of Bucky's head with his left leg.

Bucky stumbles as he spins with the motion, spitting the blood gushing down his nose and into his mouth out before he darts in low, swinging a punch into and cracking three of Steve's ribs, forcing a grunt out of Steve before spinning around and aiming a high arching kick across Steve's face in return.

Steve moves with the motion, spitting blood out of his own mouth before running at Bucky with his enhanced speed, who half turns in a dodge to just barely avoid it and gets his left arm around Steve's neck and under Steve's jaw in a choke hold.

Steve gags slightly against it and Bucky increases the pressure of his left arm around Steve's neck, Steve's hand flying up to scrabble at whirring metal, the plates shifting under his hand to strengthen Bucky's grip.

Bucky gets a leg wound around one of Steve's from behind and pulls, taking Steve down with him to the mat and landing on his back, holding Steve tight to him against his chest while Steve struggles against Bucky’s hold. He doesn't say anything and he doesn't stop. Steve doesn't try to tell him to either even as his struggles slow, breathing light and labored in his restricted airway.

Steve's struggles soon come to a stop and his arms fall to their sides soon after. Bucky only eases up and releases the hold once he knows for sure that Steve's fully unconscious, shifting Steve off of him and giving his body a rough shove for good measure before he sits up, wiping the area above his mouth and below his nose with the back of his hand before running his tongue across his lower lip, looking over at Steve where he's lying on the mat. As far as fights go it could have been worse, it _has_ been worse, but that still doesn't make it any more pleasant for the both of them.

Bucky pushes himself up off of the mat a few minutes later once his breathing's back under control, looking down at Steve for a long moment before he walks over to collect Steve's flung boots and his own, grabbing their jackets on the way back and piling everything into his right hand and arm before returning to Steve after. He reaches down and wraps his left arm around Steve's middle, far enough below his ribs to not cause much more damage than there already is and lifting Steve up, carrying him under his arm as he heads for the door, unlocking it with his elbow and exiting the room.

“ _Have you worn him out, Sergeant Barnes?_ ” JARVIS asks after Bucky steps into the elevator with Steve under his arm, and JARVIS automatically has the elevator take them to Steve's floor. Bucky huffs out a breath, more blood trailing down from his nose and into his mouth. He swallows it before running his tongue across his upper lip. “Something like that,” he replies, voice rough.

The doors slide open on their floor and Bucky steps out, carrying Steve into the apartment and heading for the bedroom, depositing him onto the bed before dropping the coat and boots to the floor. He heads for the bathroom right after to take care of his nose and grab the first aid kit hidden under the sink.

Bucky walks back over to the bed with tissue pressed up to his nose and sits on the edge with the first aid kit and a sigh, hunching over slightly and ignoring the protest of his ribs. They'll heal within a few days. He glances over to Steve, watches his back rise and fall slightly with his face half pressed into the sheets as he breathes, a line forming between his eyebrows while he's out. Steve's expression starts going pinched and Bucky knows he'll probably end up having a nightmare about Peggy and their past, of smoke trailing up into the sky from the window of a jet, so close but just as equally unreachable.

He pulls the tissue from his nose and un-wads it, shifting it around a little to rewad it with a clean section facing out and press it back up to his nose, tilting his head back with his right hand resting in his lap. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about Peggy Carter, her warm eyes and that very same smoke.

After a few minutes he sets the blood soaked tissue on the night stand and shifts around to open the first aid kit, pulling out what he needs and getting a couple long, wooden spoons from the kitchen to make a makeshift splint.

–

Steve wakes up an hour later with a shout half muffled by the bed's sheets and a hand fisted near his head, eyes snapping open and unseeing while he's still lost in his nightmare for a few moments before he blinks away the remnants of smoke and black and white photographs of children.

He spots Bucky sitting on the edge, back to him but turned a little so he can look at Steve over his shoulder, nose a little red and some bruises blossomed across his face, his body held a little stiff from his injured ribs. Neither of them moves or says anything for a long minute, just look at each other, Steve with his growing anger at Hydra, at Bucky, at Tony, at _himself_ , at everything. With loss. Bucky just looks back at him, a similar anger there but mostly just a sense of defeat, because he knows they couldn't have done anything after finding out so late, and Steve _knows_ that, but it doesn't stop him from feeling like he could have, _should_ have done something. It doesn't make it hurt any less or make him feel any better about Peggy now being gone.

Steve drops his eyes to the sheets after a while, eyes tracing the dunes and mountains of the disheveled material, vaguely aware of the splint on his right wrist and it makes him feel a thread of guilt. He hears Bucky shift after a while, sees him lean back on his right hand out of the corner of his eye.

“You really didn't want to dance with her?” Steve asks quietly after another while of silence, his face half hidden by the sheets. He wants to talk about Peggy, but he doesn't want to talk about Peggy, this is the only way he can find some sort of middle. Talk about something she said while she was alive just a few hours ago, but not about her being gone.

Bucky doesn't say anything, just turns his head to look down at Steve after a few moments and Steve doesn't look at him, keeps his eyes on the bed's sheets.

“How long have you been wanting to 'dance' with me?” Steve asks next, eyes finally lifting to look out across the hills of the sheets on the bed to the wall and door across the room.

“I don't know when it started,” Bucky finally answers softly, “But for a while. I just...I didn't really understand it, then, couldn't really even wrap my head around it. I only just started to realize what it was and start to box it away at that bar after Austria, when Peggy came in.”

Steve's quiet for a few moments at the mention of Peggy, throat going a little tight. “You never said anything,” he finally says, quietly.

“No, and I never would have, either,” Bucky replies, voice almost just as quiet.

“No, I suppose you wouldn't've,” Steve returns a little ruefully.

They're both silent for a few minutes after that, until Steve pushes himself up with his uninjured hand to sit on the bed. “I didn't feel like that, _before_ , at least not that I knew of,” Steve replies, voice still quiet, “Maybe it was there for a while, but I wasn't really aware of it. You were just important to me, my best friend, my brother, my family, my everything. The only thing I _had_ left.”

Bucky's quiet, just listens, still sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his right hand, close to Steve but not close enough to crowd his space. He doesn't think he'd be welcome into it again yet. It's still too soon.

“But after everything we went through since we fell and when Hydra attacked the Tower...” Steve trails off a little in thought. Bucky finally looks up at him and Steve looks back a moment later. “I don't know, everything just seemed to click into place when we were tearing at each other and you got me to the floor and just... _looked_ at me. Like maybe things were always supposed to be that way, after everything, but they just never had the time or chance to get there until seventy more years went by and we were too messed up to do it right,” Steve finishes.

They look at each other for a long moment before Bucky cracks a small, halfhearted smirk, and Steve's own lips twitch up slightly in response, but that's as much as he can manage. Steve's expression goes a little dark after a moment before his eyes drop back to the sheets, expression then going a little pinched. “It wasn't like that with Peggy,” he starts, voice a little shaky. He clears his throat and Bucky watches him, eyes a little sad, “It was like...I first saw her and the world burst into sparks. She lit up every place she was in. I rode in a car with her before the serum and I couldn't even talk to her without messin' up,” Steve cracks a small, reminiscent smile, “She smiled. Asked me if I knew how to talk to a woman.” Steve takes a small breath, small smile still on his face, “I heard her try to get them to shut the machine down after I started yellin' in it, she sounded so...She _cared_ about me, Buck, even before I changed, even though the first time she had really talked to me was in that car.” Steve's smile finally fades as tears start welling in his eyes, “Even with my Astigmatism, even when she was a little blurry, she was _beautiful_ , and so, _so_ strong, Buck.” The tears finally fall down Steve's cheeks and his voice goes wobbly but Bucky doesn't move, doesn't dare touch him yet. “I _loved her_ , Bucky,” Steve's voice cracks and he lets out a sob, “ _I loved her_.”

Steve collapses in on himself and Bucky finally lets himself move, twists and scoots up on the bed to wrap his arms around Steve and pull him in close. Steve's arms wrap around his back as he buries his face into Bucky's collarbone, sobs muffled into Bucky's t-shirt. “ _I loved her_ ,” Steve says a few more times, clutching at the back of Bucky's t-shirt with his uninjured hand and Bucky has to blink back the tears welling in his own eyes. There's a pressure in his chest because Steve's in _pain_ and he can't _do_ anything. Peggy's gone and he can't do _anything_ to change that, and the last words she said to him are cemented into his head. The last look she gave him with that warm fire in her eyes that Steve talks about, so unique to her and her smile, forever locked into his mind. He didn't love Peggy, not like Steve does, but he loved that she loved Steve. He loved that she cared about Steve before everything, when he was just five-four and ninety-five pounds. He loved her for still caring about Steve the same even _after_. He loved that she _saw_ Steve the same way Bucky did, and now Bucky's the only one left who still does.

Steve's sobs die down after a while and his labored breathing starts to even out as he slips into an exhausted sleep, and Bucky holds him, doesn't let go as he finally lets _himself_ fall a little apart, tears trailing down his own cheeks as he presses his mouth to the top of Steve's hair. “ _I'm sorry, Steve_ ,” he whispers quietly, and Steve sleeps.

–

They emerge from the apartment a few hours later, stopping at the med lab first to splint Steve's broken wrist properly before heading up to the communal room where Bruce and Thor are. Bruce and Thor are both sat at the smaller table, Bruce with a book spread open on top of it and a bowl of fruit to his left, Thor with a few plates of meat, bread, and poptarts laid out in front of himself. They both look over and stand up from the table when Steve and Bucky walk in, eyes full of a kind of sorrow, empathy, and understanding that is both a comfort and painful to look at.

“Steve, Bucky, I'm so sorry,” Bruce says gently as Thor comes over, pulling Steve into a surprising hug before doing the same with Bucky.

“Thank you,” Steve says sedately, Bucky nodding slightly when Thor releases him.

“It is not easy losing both a fellow warrior and someone you love all at once,” Thor says solemnly, and Steve gets the feeling he's speaking from experience.

“No, it's not,” Steve agrees quietly.

“ _Steve, Sergeant Barnes_ ,” JARVIS says from overhead a moment later, drawing all of their attention, “ _There is a call that Ms. Potts has asked me to forward to you. She says she apologizes, but that you may also want to take it_.”

“Go ahead,” Bucky replies for the both of them, glancing at Steve for a moment as he does.

A hologram materializes in front of them while Thor steps aside, a live video feed flicking on.

It's Sharon. Steve swallows.

“Ms. Carter,” Steve says quietly, a little warily. Bucky steps a little closer to him.

“Mr. Rogers,” Sharon responds calmly. She's got a cut above her left eye and bruises smattering her face, but for the most part it looks like she made it out of the blast okay, at least from what they can see.

They're all quiet for a moment, Sharon and Steve studying one another before Sharon finally takes a steadying breath, eyes shifting between Steve and Bucky before finally landing on Steve again.

“It's not your fault,” Sharon starts, and Steve flinches slightly, but manages to keep it barely noticeable, at least to Sharon, the others are a different matter. Bucky takes another step closer to him and part of him appreciates it. “And I don't blame you, or Sergeant Barnes, for what happened,” she continues, eyes shifting to Bucky for a moment before dropping down, her expression briefly filling with her loss. She clears her throat and pulls herself together, shoulders squaring with a slight wince as she looks back up. “Aunt Peggy wouldn't have blamed you for it, for anything that happened. She would have blamed Hydra, though, and that's where the blame truly does lie,” she says firmly. Steve's mouth flattens into an unhappy line, eyebrows drawing together.

“But if we hadn't come-” Steve starts, but Sharon cuts him off.

“She'd still be alive? Yes, maybe. She'd live the rest of her days thinking, when she could remember it, that the two of you were dead and that she couldn't have done more? Definitely,” she says. Steve's eyes widen.

Bucky comes up right next to his side and Steve feels him take his left hand. Steve glances over at him as he does and Bucky looks back before returning his attention to the screen. Steve does too, gripping Bucky's hand in return.

“This way, she got to know you were both alright. She got to see you again,” Sharon continues, voice going a little wobbly before she clears her throat once more, “And I _know_ she would have chosen that over never knowing, over never seeing either of you again. After you two left she forgot for a bit, but she remembered again before the blast, and I _know_ she remembered when the blast happened, too. I don't have a doubt in my mind that she's glad you came to see her, regardless of the danger or what happened. It's how you would felt if your positions were reversed, isn't it?” Sharon asks.

Steve sucks in a breath, nodding slightly. He can see the motion of Bucky doing the same out of the corner of his eye. Steve grips his hand a little tighter and Bucky squeezes back his back. “Yes,” Steve says, nodding again.

Sharon smiles, it's worn at the edges but it's a real smile. “Then don't keep _blaming_ yourself. She wouldn't want you to and neither do I,” she says.

Bucky snorts, drawing their attention to him. Steve gives him a confused look and Bucky looks right back. “She'd kick our asses to hell and back if she knew we were moping,” he says, getting a startled laugh out of Steve and a warm one out of Sharon.

“She would,” Sharon agrees, and Steve shares a smile and a nod with her.

“Thank you, Ms. Carter,” Steve says honestly, sincerely after a moment, and Sharon smiles.

“No, thank you, Mr. Rogers,” she replies, “And please, call me Sharon.”

“Sharon, then,” Steve says sincerely, a small smile on his lips.

“Will we be seeing you around?” Bucky asks a moment later, expression curious, and Steve glances over at him. Bucky raises his eyebrows back.

“Oh, I'm sure you will. Hydra still has to be taken down, yes? I hear there's going to be a present for all of us this Christmas,” Sharon replies a little sarcastically on the latter half, and Steve's eyes snap back to her.

“How do you know about that?” he asks, tensing slightly.

Sharon smirks, tilting her head slightly to the side with a barely there wince at the motion. “Agents Barton and Romanoff aren't the only ones who've worked under Director Fury,” she replies mysteriously. Steve and Bucky both blink, sharing a look before looking back to her.

She ends the call with her smirk still in place before they can say anything and the video feed cuts out, leaving them to stare at the room ahead of them as the hologram disappears.

“So, she's S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Bucky concludes after a moment, “Or was. Might still be. Makes sense, what with Peggy having been her aunt and all.”

Steve huffs a small breath, looking over at him. “ _It's a small world **after all**_ ,” Steve sings quietly, and Bucky lets out a laugh.

“ _ **No no** , anything but **that**_ ,” Bucky quotes back, voice imitating with a prim look. They'd both gotten to _The Lion King_ recently. After, Tony kept dramatically yelling at Steve to, “Help me, brother!” at the slightest provocation, and tried to convince Bucky to get a vertical scar across his left eye. Both had very little success, although Bucky eventually said the scar might actually work in his favor and Clint told him it would help add to his 'swag.' Whatever that was.

Steve cracks another smile.

“You will both be alright,” Thor announces a moment later, and Steve and Bucky both turn their heads to look at him. Thor just smiles knowingly as he moves closer and claps them both once on the shoulder with a hand each, heading back over to the table to sit down and return to his meal.

Bruce is already seated and goes back to his book with his own small smile.

–

They don't go to Peggy's funeral, they _can't_ , but Natasha and Clint go, and Natasha agrees to stream it to them on a live video feed through a camera built into a pin she wears on her black, suit jacket.

There wasn't much of a body left to bury, nothing really _left_ after the explosion except bones, so they bury what they could find in a closed casket.

Steve and Bucky both watch the ceremony silently, JARVIS projecting it on the wall so it's almost like they're actually there. Tony managed to get Steve's old, formal military uniform for him, kept pristine by the museum that he managed to wrangle it from somehow. Bucky's as well, though his needed some adjusting to fit his now larger frame. It's strange, wearing their old uniforms again, but Steve couldn't think of anything else appropriate to wear and Bucky couldn't come up with anything either, so they went with something Peggy may have appreciated that was still formal.

They stand between the couch and the long table in front of it, Steve keeping still and Bucky at his side the whole time. He'd shed most of his tears for Peggy already, so his eyes are dry for the ceremony. Bucky's are too.

When it's over they both head back to their apartment. Bucky's stopped staying in his own, hasn't gone back to it for a while actually, so they share Steve's now, the one they'd initially shared when they first got to the Tower.

They each undress carefully, folding each article of clothing perfectly before setting them in their own drawer side by side. They both crawl onto the bed after, Steve in his underwear and Bucky naked, and just look at each other for an hour, two commas curved towards one another. They don't talk because there's nothing left to say. They'll destroy Hydra, they'll both miss her, they're both grieving in their own ways. There are no words left.

–

Bucky wakes up alone some time later. He's not sure how long he's been asleep or how long he's been alone, but when he stretches his right hand out to Steve's side of the bed it's still a little warm, working on cooling, so it's maybe only been about half an hour since Steve left. He gives a full body stretch before pushing himself up and scooting off of the bed, heading for the bathroom. When he's done in there, he picks up a pair of discarded sweatpants off the floor and slips them on before heading for the door, leaving the apartment and entering the elevator when the doors slide open.

“JARVIS,” Bucky starts, scrubbing his face with a hand, “Do you know where Steve's at?”

“ _The training floor, Sergeant Barnes_ ,” JARVIS replies.

Bucky grunts in acknowledgment, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Just 'Bucky' s'fine,” he says, voice still a little rough from sleep.

“ _As you wish, Bucky_ ,” JARVIS replies before the elevator doors slide open and Bucky steps out, heading down the hall and taking a look into the various training rooms until he finds Steve. It turns out, he's in the one on the left again, the one they'd fought in after they got back from Winchester. He steps in silently on bare feet and watches Steve for a few minutes.

He's hitting a punching bag and he's gone through two already, both laid out on the gym floor. The first looks worse than the second, a large gash across it, probably from a kick from Steve's right leg. The second has a hole through it. But his current one seems to be lasting longer than the first two, so that's something.

Steve stops after a few more punches and turns to look at him, breathing barely even picked up. Bucky raises his eyebrows, heading over to stop next to him. “Well?” he asks, gesturing to the punching bag with a hand.

Steve's eyebrows draw together in confusion and Bucky waves with a hand to signal for Steve to move aside. Steve does, taking a few steps back as Bucky gets into position in front of the punching bag. He swings hard with his left fist and the bag goes flying, sand erupting out of it like a firework halfway through the air.

Bucky looks back at Steve who's got his eyebrows raised in question, glancing between Bucky and the punching bag for a moment.

“I was going for a matching set,” Bucky says proudly while he sets his hands on his hips, cocky grin on his face.

Steve snorts quietly while shaking his head, but he's smiling so Bucky will count it as a win. He's not expecting Steve to just suddenly be fine after what happened, hell, _he's_ not suddenly just ' _fine_ ' after what happened, but he's going to try and make Steve smile as much as he can anyway.

“Wanna spar?” Bucky asks, and Steve straightens up, looking at him for a moment before nodding.

They both get into position, Steve raising an eyebrow at Bucky's clothes after he does.

Bucky scoffs, waving a hand slightly in dismissal. “Please, I can fight in the nude and you know it. Sweatpants'll do just _fine_ ,” he answers, and Steve cracks a smirk.

“Now wouldn't _that_ be something to see,” Steve quietly tries to joke back.

Bucky raises his eyebrows, expression going lewd. “Wanna find out later?” he asks, smirking back and making his eyebrows jump up a few times.

Steve lets out a quiet laugh. It's a little subdued, but it's a laugh all the same. “Maybe,” Steve answers quietly, expression going focused after a moment.

Bucky's does the same and after a minute their breaths gradually synchronize, then they're moving at the same time, each throwing a left punch at the other.

This fight goes much better than their last one.

It's a few days later when they're all on the communal floor that Tony brings up Thanksgiving. Steve's resting with his back against one of the armrests of the couch with his left leg propped up and resting against the back of the couch with his right one laid out in front of him, an art history book in his hands that he's got resting against his left leg in his lap as he reads. He's cut himself off a bit from the others since the funeral and has been spending more time in the training room after his runs with Sam, mostly sparring by himself for the first few days after it before he started sparring more with Bucky. Bucky's also caught him sparring with Natasha more than once (and had to leave quickly after noticing otherwise he never would) and occasionally with Thor. Steve's recently started visiting more with the others again over the past couple of days and Bucky's even gotten him to grin honestly once or twice.

Bucky's currently playing poker at the smaller table with Natasha, Clint, Bruce, and Sam, the two latter of which can surprisingly keep up with the three of them, Sam's even beat Clint a few times. But Bruce, somehow, keeps beating _all of them_.

“Are you cheating? You have to be cheating,” Clint says, roughly setting his cards face down on the table, “There is _no way_ you are beating Natasha at this game. Barnes and Wilson, no offense wingman, I get, but Natasha? _No way_.”

“None taken, bird brother,” Sam says as he shuffles his cards around, reaching over behind Bruce to accept Clint's fist bump while Clint stares Bruce down. Bucky throws one of his own cards at Clint's face from across the table like a ninja star in retaliation, which Clint catches between two fingers while still staring at Bruce, who's sitting to Clint's left. Natasha calmly draws a card from where she's sitting to Clint's right.

“I assure you that I'm not cheating,” Bruce replies calmly, unruffled, drawing another card of his own while placing another rainbow cookie in the 'pot,' “I've spent quite a bit of time abroad as a doctor and I haven't always been able to get money in return for it, which is fine, but I have needed to get some quick cash a few times and this was the easiest way.”

Clint eyes Bruce while he picks his cards back up, looking them over before looking at the pile of rainbow cookies in the center of the table, their 'money,' eyes shifting back to his cards briefly before looking up across the table at Bucky, who looks back.

Clint twitches his eyebrows up slightly in question.

Bucky cocks his head to the side in one of his own.

Clint rolls his right shoulder slowly, casually, tilting his own head _just so_ before giving a slight smirk.

Bucky's eyes narrow briefly before opening back up, glancing down at the rainbow cookies in the center of the table.

He does want them pretty bad.

He looks back up to see Clint smirking a little wider and narrows his eyes again.

Damn it, he just might have to.

Bucky catches Natasha shifting her eyes between the two of them and instantly schools his expression. Barton just grins at her when she looks at him and she rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitch up.

Sam just stares at three of them before glancing to his right at Bruce, who's looking at his own cards in thought. Sam lets out a sigh, eyes shifting back to his cards. He's on his own.

Thor's sitting on the other end of the couch opposite Steve, watching a movie in Hindi with the volume turned down low so he doesn't disturb Steve's reading, his own hearing fine enough that he doesn't need to turn it up very loud to hear the dialogue.

Tony comes out of the kitchen holding some strange, green health drink in a glass in his hand. “I think we should do Thanksgiving,” he announces to the room at large, drawing Thor, Steve, and Sam's attention while Bucky, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce focus intensely on their game of poker over rainbow cookies.

“I don't know Tony,” Bruce replies calmly, eyes still on the game, “What if some of us have relatives that we're planning to visit?”

Tony hums for a moment in thought while taking a sip of his drink. Steve winces slightly at it before looking back to his book.

“Possible, but, and no offense, I doubt it,” Tony finally replies, leaning back against the edge of the counter facing the poker game, “Two spies, two ninety-something super soldier assassins, an Asgardian prince, a unique para-rescuer, and me? The only one who I think might is Sam, and maybe Thor if Ms. Foster recruits him first.”

Thor sits up a little straighter at the mention of Jane, but otherwise his expression is puzzled. “This 'Thanksgiving,'” he starts, looking at Tony, “Would this be the celebration of 'Turkey' and 'stuffing'?”

Tony nods a little emphatically, taking another sip of his drink before he says, “Yup, that's the one. And considering who stays at the Tower it's going to be quite the feast. Lots of food,” Tony tries to coax.

Thor's face lights up before going thoughtful again, reaching somewhere in his cape to pull out a cellphone. “I must ask Jane if it would be alright that I spend this Thanksgiving with the both of you,” he starts, dialing as he stands up and walking towards the closest hall as he brings the cellphone up to his ear, “I would not be opposed to having such a feast with all of my friends.”

“Tell her she's invited if she wants to just come spend it over here!” Tony calls out, and Thor waves a hand over his shoulder in acknowledgment. “What about you guys?” Tony asks the others, and Steve looks up, catching Bucky's eye in question.

“I guess that'd be fine...” Bucky says slowly, eyes darting to his cards for a moment as he pulls one out and tosses it down onto the table before looking back at Steve, who nods his head slightly in confirmation. “...Yeah, sure, we'll come,” Bucky answers for them, looking at Tony for a moment before going back to the game.

Tony grins like a cheshire cat before focusing in on the other four. “You guys coming? I'd hesitate saying no to a Thanksgiving with Barnes, Rogers, and Thor. I mean. Come on. It's going to be amazing,” Tony tries to lure.

Clint snorts but looks to Natasha, whose expression shifts only slightly before she nods at Tony, who grins wider before looking to Sam and Bruce.

Sam throws his cards down onto the table with a defeated sigh, turning in his chair slightly to look over at Tony. “Yeah, I'll come, but I'll have to leave halfway through depending on when you're starting so I can meet with my relatives,” Sam replies.

“Can do,” Tony agrees easily, turning his slightly predatory look on Bruce, “Bruuuuuce.”

Bruce lets out a chuckle before laying his cards out on the table, everyone letting out a groan except for Bucky and Natasha who both let out a vehement curse in Russian, Natasha's more quiet than Bucky's.

“Fine, Tony, I'll come,” Bruce concedes, looping his arms around the small mountain of rainbow cookies in the middle of the table and pulling them to him, bringing one up to take a bite.

“I will also attend,” Thor announces as he comes back into the room, putting his phone back from wherever he'd pulled it out of and taking his seat back on the couch.

Bucky pushes his chair back roughly and leaves the table with a grumble, heading over to flop down onto the couch and lay the side of his head on Steve's right thigh, looping his arms around the metal of Steve's leg under his sweatpants. The couch is big and wraps around enough that they could both lay on it top to end and still not touch Thor.

Steve turns a page of his book as Bucky takes up residence on his person, only shifting slightly to make them both a little more comfortable.

“Yes! Perfect. Now I don't have to send back those eight turkeys I already ordered,” Tony says victoriously, practically skipping out of the room.

Natasha and Clint both get up and head for the other elevator on the opposite side of the room while Sam collects all of the cards. Bruce pulls a couple cards out of his sleeve while Sam’s picking up the others’ and offers them to him with a cookie and a secretive smile. So, he really  _was_ cheating, but what’s even more impressive is that _he got away with it_. Sam learns the valuable lesson that you should never underestimate one Bruce Banner, accepting the cookie with an incredulous, awed expression that quickly turns into a grin as he takes a bite, letting out a muffled, appreciative groan in the direction of the couch.

Bucky unwinds his left arm from around Steve's leg long enough to lift it up and flip Sam off over the back of the couch, winding it back around Steve's leg again after while Sam laughs low and pleased. Steve chuckles quietly and turns another page, holding the book with his left hand while shifting to move his right down and brush his fingers softly through Bucky's hair.

Bucky settles in and watches the movie with Thor that's still playing on the tv.


	19. I like her just that way, and I want her that way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexy and gore? And WRITING LIKE TEN CHARACTERS SEND HELP OMG SO HARD.
> 
> Also Gina is getting me hooked on broadway musicals. [/stares at title]

Thanksgiving is quick to creep up on them like all Holidays seem to, except this time both Steve and Bucky have enough of their minds back to notice.

Natasha requisitions Bucky to go along with her to Budapest a few days beforehand, scheduled to get back Thanksgiving day. Her reason is that Clint isn't around and everyone else, including Steve, would draw too much attention. Bucky perks up at the request and Steve can tell that he's at least a little excited at the prospect of getting out of the Tower for a few days, like a puppy finally being let out of the house. Bucky's mouth flattens out into an unhappy, slightly pouting line when he realizes, damn it, he _is_ like a puppy finally being let out of the house.

Bucky talks it over with Steve first, once they're alone in their apartment, but he's practically vibrating with pent up energy and it reminds Steve of when Bucky used to get excited over dates back before he shipped out, except instead of getting excited over dancing at the local bar with a pretty girl, he's getting excited about possibly blowing things up with Natasha in Hungary. They've both spent seventy years either boxed up or under near constant watch, so they'd both become something of an expert at dealing with not really having the freedom to _roam around_ \- when they could even _notice_ the itch to just _leave_ back then - but with their memories back, and the longer they stay in the Tower and within its few, short miles of freedom, the more the both of them are starting to feel the insistent urge to _get out_.

Steve reassures Bucky that, “It's _fine_. _I'll_ be fine. Just _go_.” And, although Bucky doesn't seem entirely convinced, he gives Steve a nod and pulls him into a brief kiss before practically running off to their room to pack for the trip like he's going to Disneyland.

Bucky leaves with, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” as he walks backwards towards the car taking him and Natasha out of the Tower.

And Steve calls back, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you!” and watches as Bucky grins while getting into the car, and then they’re gone.

It's quiet without Bucky in the apartment, or around - _too quiet_ \- and Steve is swamped with silence barely overridden by the soft music he has JARVIS play and his thoughts - memories - of Peggy. Steve has a horrifying moment of clarity the night of Bucky's leaving that this is what it would be like without Bucky in his life. He'd eat, sleep, shower, train, maybe get out of the Tower and run with Sam, maybe eventually either leave and wander the globe, join random organizations to fight, or stay and become an Avenger, but he'd be living a half life, alone, something incomplete, wholly unsatisfying, and swamped by memories of everything he had that's now gone. It'd be empty without Bucky in it, too empty, even with his new friends around.

It may be a little twisted, maybe a little cowardly, but Steve finds himself glad that he fell off of the train after Bucky, he's glad that he didn't have to try and live without him, even if in the following seventy years he wasn't entirely aware of it. The alternative is somehow more frightening than what actually took place. He may have ended up marrying Peggy if he'd lived, or maybe he'd have died some other way during the war, but he would have still been alone in a way he can't really put into words, missing the half of himself that fell to the depths of the alps.

Clint shows back up the day before Thanksgiving, and when he finds out that Bucky went with Natasha in his place, he complains loudly that he, “Can't believe I _missed_ it. That's _our place!_ ” Clint curses loudly in the communal room - surprising everyone except Bruce with his sudden outburst - when Bucky sends Clint a picture of him and Natasha looking straight-faced at their phone's camera, both with black sunglasses on and an explosion at the high point of exploding taking place behind them. Tony and Thor both laugh while Sam takes note that they're just barely out of range of the blast, and Bruce just smiles before going back to his book. Steve feels a pang of longing in his chest, to be out there and to be out there with Bucky, but it's soothed when Bucky sends him a picture of just himself with a small smile on his face and a similar longing in his eyes, excited but still missing something that isn't with him like Steve. Natasha's in mid-wave over her shoulder while she walks away behind him. Steve manages a small smile and rests his phone screen down on his chest where he's resting back against the couch's arm rest, and turns his head back to the side to continue watching _The Wizard of Oz_ on the tv.

Sam visits the Tower each day Bucky's not there, and Steve raises an eyebrow at him after he shows up on the second day in a row. It's not unusual by this point, but given that Bucky's gone Steve can't help feeling at least a little suspicious.

Sam raises his hands in surrender with a laugh at Steve's look. “Yeah, he _did_ ask me to come over, but no, that's not the only reason I keep coming by,” Sam says when Steve just stares at him.

Steve huffs a laugh and then they move head up to the communal room to sit on the couch and play _Doom_. Naturally, of the two of them Steve has the highest score count, and, unsurprisingly, Bucky has the highest of them all with Clint a close second, much to his constant frustration.

Sometimes they don't go to the communal room, just stay in the apartment. Sam is a silent, comforting presence when Steve doesn't feel like talking or do anything but stare out at New York City and let himself get lost in thoughts and memories, let himself _feel_ the pain of Peggy's death and that extra bit of loneliness that it brought with it.

Sam asks him, once, late in the night on the second day, “Tell me about her?”

Steve looks over at him for a long moment, gauging his expression, but Sam's as calm and open as usual with his small, familiar smile on his face, and Steve's lips manage to twitch up slightly in return. He does tell Sam about Peggy, about when he first saw her and how amazing of a shot he was. He tells Sam of her bravery, how fierce she was and how much she reminded him of a burning fire. Of how she took no bullshit from anyone, including her fellow, male soldiers.

Sam listens all the while, occasionally asking a quiet question here or there, but mostly just letting Steve talk. By the end of it, Steve has tears in his eyes, but there's a smile on his face that Sam returns. There's still a painful ache in his chest, but it feels more like a pleasant one than a gaping hole. Finally getting to talk to someone about her who didn't know her soothes some of the jagged edges from her death in the explosion, and the smoke trailing into the sky that haunts his nightmares.

Bucky and Natasha come back the next morning, Bucky with a souvenir for Steve that Steve's not entirely sure he wants, and then it's Thanksgiving day.

–

“Alright!” Tony announces to the communal room, a couple hours after Bucky and Natasha have gotten back and both gotten a chance to get some sleep. He claps his hands once to draw everyone's attention from where they're all sprawled out in various places around the room.

“The chefs are cooking up the turkeys and _we're_ responsible for putting everything else together, at Pepper's insistence,” Tony continues while Sam gives an agreeing nod with Pepper's logic and Tony narrows his eyes at him for it, “But, that all comes later since the turkeys are going to be a while. Jane, Thor, Darcy, Ian, and Selvig are coming by around five and it's only ten in the morning _fuck_ is it really ten in the morning?” Tony sidetracks, eyes darting to the nearest clock and blinking at it a few times just to make sure. He gives himself a full body shake and returns his attention back to the room. “So! That gives us at least a few hours of _bonding_ time before I listen to Pepper and actually get some sleep before the big dinner...And I have the perfect group activity in mind,” Tony finishes with a way too pleased grin, which makes Sam shift uncomfortably in his chair.

–

Tony blows the whistle around his neck, high pitched noise echoing off of the training room walls and making both Steve and Bucky wince.

“First off! Separating into two teams,” Tony says, pointing out dramatically at the gathered group of them, all wearing gym clothes, or borrowed ones. Most of them are either in their own shorts, sweatpants, t-shirts, or yoga pants, while the rest are in borrowed gym clothes that have “ _IRON MAN_ ” printed obnoxiously across the backs. Sam is one of the unfortunate.

“Everyone's either going to be on my team or Bruce's,” Tony continues. Steve has the sudden, horrible sense of deja vu from when he never got picked for a team as a kid, at least not until Bucky came along. Bucky nudges his shoulder gently with his own and Steve takes a calming breath before giving Bucky a small smile and nudge in return. Bucky grins.

“Steve and Clint, you're on my team,” Tony declares, and Steve blinks, eyes darting to Bucky who looks back. They haven't been on opposite teams since... _ever_. “Natasha, Barnes, you're on Bruce's team. Sam will alternate between both teams every five minutes - if the game or _he_ even lasts that long - but if he gets hit by the opposite of whatever team he's on at the time, he's out,” Tony continues, “And seeing how many assassins we've got in this game, that rule about catching-the-ball-and-the-thrower-is-out doesn't apply. Also, no one goes past the halfway point of the room, are we clear?”

Everyone nods.

“I think maybe I should sit this out Tony,” Bruce starts, but Tony scoffs and waves a dismissing hand before reaching down to grab the large, netted bag full of bright orange, head sized bouncing balls he's got resting next to his left. “Nonsense. You're playing,” Tony says, waving out with his right hand in shooing motions at everyone, “Into teams, go!”

Steve and Bucky share another look before separating to opposite sides of the room, feeling off. Sam joins the team Steve is on first while Tony and Bruce meet in the middle of the room like kings of opposing nations, Tony carrying the netted bag of balls with him.

“You ready for this?” Tony asks Bruce with a cocky smirk, dumping the bag of balls in between them before tossing the bag itself aside. There's about ten balls in total, all gradually rolling out in various different directions when they spill out onto the ground.

Bruce smiles back serenely, glasses left behind in his apartment and out of danger of getting broken. “You're going down,” he replies calmly, and somehow that's more terrifying than it should be.

Tony's grin goes shark-like before he pulls the whistle off from around his neck, slowly bringing it to his mouth in the tense silence. Steve looks at Bucky and quickly catches his eye from across the room. Bucky grins back and Steve can't help his own lips twitching up in return.

Tony blows the whistle before quickly tossing it to the side, both him and Bruce quickly reaching down and throwing balls back to their teams before running backwards and away from each other with their own, throwing their own balls at one another.

It's chaos.

It's _fun_.

Natasha aims one at Clint first, who manages to dodge it before getting hit by one of Bucky's on a team up, who had one in each hand. Bucky's other ball gets aimed at Tony and he's quick to go down, getting hit by Bruce and Bucky both in quick succession.

Sam takes out Bruce in return before diving in front of Steve to take the ball thrown by Natasha that would have hit him.

“Sam!” Steve shouts, easily - _too_ easily - dodging one of the balls thrown by Bucky, the shot going a little wide.

“It's okay, man,” Sam replies, voice dramatically getting faint, “We're friends. I couldn't just let you go down.” And then Sam actually pretends to faint and Steve lets out a dramatically anguished sound from the back of his throat. Sam chokes on a laugh but quiets himself down and plays dead.

Steve looks across the room to find Bucky and Natasha staring at him, the only two others left in the game, each holding a ball in one hand. Steve can hear them talking from his side of the room.

“Natasha, I can't-” Bucky's saying, expression torn.

“You have to, James,” Natasha replies, eyes serious and on Steve as she stares him down, all three of them frozen in place in some kind of standoff. Steve doesn't have a ball, there's none close enough for him to dive for without getting hit.

Tony, Clint, Bruce, and Sam are all sat down on the sidelines, Tony idly spinning his whistle from earlier as they watch.

“I should have made popcorn,” Steve hears Clint mumble. Sam nudges his arm.

Natasha and Bucky share a look, silently communicating tactics Steve's sure. Bucky nods at something she's signaled in reluctant agreement before they both start to move, stepping away from each other and angling themselves towards Steve's sides, slowly stepping closer to and stopping at the halfway point of the room.

Natasha takes a quick shot that Steve dodges, Bucky's following soon after but going a little wide again, and Steve easily avoids the throw like the last one Bucky had aimed at Steve during the outbreak of chaos at the start of the game.

Natasha picks up another ball before turning her head to look at Bucky, who's slowly picking up a ball of his own. Steve suppresses a smile. Bucky's just trying to avoid the accusing look Natasha's sending him by taking his time. Steve's lips twitch anyway and he bites the inside of his cheek to try and keep himself from actually smiling. Even when they're on opposite teams, they're still on the _same_ team.

Natasha returns her eyes to Steve while she slowly walks over to Bucky, and Steve watches her back. There's no balls close enough for him to grab fast enough before she'll throw hers at him, and moving carelessly or over a long distance will only get him out of the game if he's not careful. He subtly shifts himself back a little towards the closest ball that he can see, which is about all he can do, Natasha still watching. It's still too far away and they both know it.

“James,” he hears Natasha say quietly, voice firm, her eyes darting back over to Bucky when he doesn't reply. “ _James_.”

Bucky rolls his shoulders casually, angling his head back slightly and looking off to the side like a teenager who's getting scolded and trying to pretend they don't care. It reminds Steve of when they were twelve and fourteen and Bucky was getting a lecture from Mrs. Ruth about, “ _Young men shouldn't be playing in the dirt like children!_ ” He tries very hard not to smile, but it's slowly becoming a losing battle.

Natasha tries a different tactic and lifts her right hand up to rest it on Bucky's left shoulder. Bucky slowly shifts his eyes to her, still trying to stall.

Natasha and Bucky stare at each other for a long moment, communicating with their eyes before Bucky slowly starts shaking his head, pace picking up for a moment before stopping as his expression goes pinched. “I can't,” Bucky says quietly, emphatically, expression torn as he stares back at her.

Natasha's expression goes soft, eyes darting to Steve to make sure he hasn't moved before she leans in closer to Bucky, looking back at him. “You _can_ , you have to. I cannot do this without you, James. We must _both_ do this,” she says, voice gentle but firm, and Steve suddenly wishes that they could have worked together, _before_ , during the Red Room. He can see glimpses of how she is in the field in how she's behaving now and it's like an _art_ in and of _itself_. Sure, it wasn't used for the best of things back then, and it's probably still not being used for much better things _now_ , but it's still a sight to see.

Bucky's expression goes pained as his eyes dart from her to Steve, biting his lower lip after a few moments before giving a small, slow nod.

Natasha returns it before her eyes go back to Steve and they're focused, no emotions clouding her judgment and getting in the way of the mission. She slowly moves back to her position opposite Bucky on Steve's other side, and Steve keeps track of them both.

His eyes finally settle on Bucky and after a moment Steve lets his body go relaxed, releasing a quiet breath. “It's alright, Buck,” he says gently, and Bucky's expression goes a little more pained. Steve raises his arms from his side slightly in offering of himself and smiles softly at him, “Go ahead.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, voice strained, about to take a step forward and step into the center of the room - get himself out - before he stops at a sharp look from Natasha, putting his foot down just short of it instead.

“On my count,” Natasha says quietly, and Steve can hear a faint trace of sincerity bleeding through in her voice. He gives her a small smile and sees her lips twitch up slightly in return before she schools her face again.

She doesn't count aloud, just shifts slightly in a way that Bucky and her must know because then she's throwing her ball and Steve dodges, because he'll never let himself take a hit like that for anyone but Bucky, and remains still after for Bucky's ball, falling dramatically to the floor when it hits him square in the chest.

“Steve!” Bucky calls out, and Steve can hear Bucky run over to him across the hard floor of the training room and drop heavily to his knees at his right side, but Steve keeps his eyes closed and breathing shallow.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, voice dramatically urgent as he shakes Steve's shoulder.

“ _Natalia_ , he's not waking up,” he hears Bucky say, light footsteps also carefully approaching his right. He can practically _feel_ her dramatically scruitinzing gaze and tries not to crack a grin.

“ _I'm sorry, James,_ ” Natasha says, voice dramatically grave, and Steve hears her pat Bucky consolingly on the shoulder. Steve also hears a couple of snorts from somewhere far and diagonal above his head from over by the wall. He keeps his eyes shut and his lips from twitching.

“ _No_ ,” Bucky says, voice going realistically urgent, “I can't _lose him again_.”

That pulls at Steve. He can hear the honesty of it bleeding through in Bucky's voice, maybe more than either of them intended, turning this from a game into something much closer to reality.

Steve's tempted to sit up and make it stop because the note of _truth_ he can hear in it almost _hurts_ , but he decides keeps himself still for a while longer to see if it will stay a game since he's unsure, breathing still shallow and near silent so it's not _too_ obvious that he _is_ still breathing.

He hears Bucky shift and feels Bucky's body hover over his before there's metal fingers on his jaw, forcing it open before shifting up to plug Steve's nose and then Bucky's lips are on his and breath is being pushed past Steve's mouth and into his lungs.

Steve manages to keep himself from reacting, but the action and sensation takes him by surprise and it's a difficult thing to do.

“Steve, _wake up_ ,” Bucky says, voice still holding a little dramatic over exaggeration to it but also sounding so, so... _young_. It brings back a memory of when Steve was sixteen and so sick in Winter he could barely breathe past the mess in his lungs. Bucky had been so worried.

Bucky's leans down again and pushes another breath into Steve's mouth. “ _Steve_ ,” he says urgently, leaning down again, and the exaggeration is starting to slip again from play to real.

“He's gone, James,” Natasha says gently, and Bucky actually _growls_ at her.

“ _No._ _He's **not**_ ,” Bucky growls out before leaning down again, and Steve can tell this is starting to go too far, it's really starting to affect Bucky.

The rest of the room has gone silent. He's not sure he wants the others to see them like this.

Because it's starting to affect him too.

Steve manages to keep himself still for a few more of Bucky's CPR attempts, which aren't stopping, he just keeps trying again and again and _again_ and never gives up because that's _Bucky_ all over, even with Natasha's quiet, “ _James_.” And Steve can't take it anymore.

When he feels Bucky leaning down again Steve surges up to meet Bucky's lips with his own, bringing a hand up to grab the back of Bucky's neck, tips of his fingers brushing the edge of the back of Bucky's hair. Bucky lets out a surprised sound before it turns into a desperate groan, hands going to both sides of Steve's head as pushes Steve down into the floor and kisses him back like it's the most important thing he has to do in the world, and in a way it is.

Someone lets out a low whistle from near the gym's wall when Bucky moves to straddle Steve's hips without breaking the kiss, lips and tongues sliding against each other while Steve wraps his free arm around Bucky's back and pulls him closer without resistance, Bucky's chest pressing tight enough against his that Steve can actually feel Bucky's heartbeat reverberating against his own through their t-shirts.

Natasha's light footsteps walk away from their side and then someone clears their throat a moment later. “Umm, guys?” Tony asks. The gym floor creaks slightly as someone awkwardly shifts.

“Maybe we should give them a few minutes,” Sam says, a little teasingly on the surface, but reasonable and even understanding underneath it. A few sets of footsteps shuffle against the hard floor a few moments later as they all start to turn and head towards the door.

“Clint?” Sam asks.

“Are you kidding me?” Clint replies, “This is like...almost on the level of finally getting to see two, world class super models make out. I mean it's kind of weird, but I feel like I'd be missing out on a national treasure if I left it,” Clint says. Then there's the sound of a flesh-on-flesh _smack_ a moment later, quickly followed by Clint's, “ _Ow_! 'Tasha!” The sound of stumbling footsteps echoing on the gym floor follow as Natasha presumably pushes Clint towards the gym door, closing it behind them.

It opens back up a few seconds later and they both hear Tony say, “This is all recording and going to Coulson, by the way,” with a smirk in his voice, “Thought you ought to know!” he calls back as the door closes behind him. But Bucky doesn't care and neither does Steve, they're both too emotional and too caught up in each other to even _try_ and muster an ounce of worry about someone else seeing this later, not that Bucky's going to feel any embarrassment over it, and Steve will just have to deal with feeling a little exposed.

Their frenzy eventually, slowly dies down, kisses going soft and placating against swollen lips. Steve's fingers have slid up to bury themselves in the back of Bucky's hair while his other hand is clutched at Bucky's back and t-shirt. Bucky's got all of his own fingers in Steve's own hair and slides his left hand down as their kissing slows to drag it down the side of Steve's neck and over his collarbone, finally stopping it to rest the metal over Steve's heart like a shield. Steve slides his own hand around from Bucky's back as their kisses finally trail off and they part – both of their eyes still closed - bringing it down to rest over Bucky's own heart in return.

They both open their eyes after a long moment of just absorbing the sounds of them both breathing and Bucky leans down the short distance to rest his forehead against Steve's, letting out a quiet sigh in a warm puff of breath that ghosts across Steve's lips. “ _Please_ don't do that again during this game,” Bucky says quietly, staring down into Steve's eyes, “or any game that requires taking someone else out.”

“I won't. I'm sorry,” Steve replies just as quietly almost immediately, his own eyes staring back up into Bucky's before Bucky closes them again.

Bucky drags his forehead to the side along Steve's before letting his head drop so he can bury his face into Steve's neck just under Steve's left ear. “I wasn't expecting it to affect me that much, but seein' you lyin' there...and you weren't wakin' up...” Bucky trails off against Steve's skin, and Steve hears him swallow, “And then I thought of Zola wakin' you up from cryo, but it always took so long. I never knew how long it took for me - probably the same - but seein' it from the outside...Even though I didn't really understand it at the time I _hated_ it, Stevie. I didn't know what I was feelin' then but I do now, and _I hated it_ ,” Bucky says vehemently.

Steve gently scratches at Bucky's scalp with his blunt fingernails while he listens, Bucky's body giving a full shiver before relaxing on top of him.

“I didn't think it would affect me that much either. It was just a game,” Steve starts quietly, “And I didn't know that's what it would make you think of.” Steve voice drops, “Hearing you talk like that, when I was pretending...I'm sorry, Buck,” he finishes, turning his head slightly to nose at the side of hair behind Bucky's ear in apology.

Bucky lets out a hot breath against Steve's neck, staying there for a few minutes as they both breathe each other in before Bucky finally lifts his head up again to look back down at Steve. He moves his other hand down from Steve's short hair to slide his warm fingers gently along Steve's left cheek, eyes on him while Steve looks back up. “He made you seem like...this _thing_ he could tweak and play with until he got you _just how he wanted_ ,” Bucky says lowly after a moment, voice quieter so only Steve can hear the anger in it unless the audio on the recording of this is enhanced.

Steve swallows once. Bucky's eyes are intense, a clash of steel and ice and fire. Sometimes, Steve doesn't think they're people _or_ monsters anymore, just forces of nature like Bucky seems right now. Like if he could go back and do things different, Bucky would do more than kill a room full men trying to turn them both into weapons. And even if he couldn't, sometimes it seems like Bucky wants to tear the whole world apart and be done with it.

“I stood there and watched while he woke you up, not much of a thought in my head except deja vu and _mission_ ,” Bucky says venomously, face twisting for a moment in the kind of anger that Steve knows few others rarely see and less live to tell about it. “And then you said my name,” Bucky continues, voice going soft with a little wonder and expression clearing, filling with a mix of awe and irony. Bucky's quiet for a moment before he goes on. “And something just... _snapped_ in me, might've _been_ me that was what snapped, and I tore them all apart for doin' that to you, to both of us, used the metal arm they forced on me to rip _their_ limbs off,” Bucky says, voice still quiet, his metal fingers digging into Steve's shirt slightly over Steve's heart, “I think he would'a made me watch everythin' if he could without riskin' me tearing that whole _damn room apart_.”

Bucky slides the pad of his thumb over Steve's cheek like he once had in that room, wiping away a drop of blood that hasn't been there for at least fifty years and Steve grips Bucky's t-shirt with the hand he has over Bucky's heart and pulls him down again, urgently pressing his lips up to Bucky's because he doesn't know how else to express what he's feeling. He remembers that, all of it, and what he feels is like a pressure building up in his chest, a dam about to erupt, something cascading through him and all of his veins that feels like it shouldn't be able to be contained by skin and muscle and _bone_ but still somehow _is_.

Bucky kisses him back like maybe he's feeling the same thing, pressing Steve into the floor like he wants to melt them into _one person_ \- sink past the floors upon floors of Avengers Tower and fall into the earth and never _come back_. Steve wouldn't mind it at all.

Bucky stands up after a few more minutes of them getting lost in each other and offers a hand down to Steve, pulling him up after. They manage to pull themselves out of their previous frame of minds enough to handle company by the time the door opens again and the others start flooding into the room for another round of dodgeball.

Bucky and Clint trade off and switch teams by mutual agreement and no one seems inclined to stop them.

Later, Tony complains loudly to the room at large and everyone in it that, “It's not _fair. This_ is why I didn't want either of them on the same team!” because every game of dodgeball they play after that always comes down to Natasha and Clint versus Steve and Bucky. Sometimes Sam lasts long enough to cover Steve's right while Bucky covers his left, but most of the time it's just him and Bucky against the world, like it's always been, and they decimate their opponents, like they always do.

–

Thanksgiving itself is an...interesting affair. Thor brings his friends over and Pepper shows up shortly after. Everyone is introduced and Darcy laments to Natasha that, “I wish I was surrounded by this much beefcake, I mean _damn_ Agent Romanoff you are _swimming_ in it.”

Thor's friends are informed about Steve and Bucky before they're both allowed to enter the room, at least informed enough to have a basic understanding of why _Captain America_ and his best friend and _Howling Commando_ , both long thought dead though actually reported as _missing in action_ , are having Thanksgiving dinner with them while still looking twenty-seven and twenty-eight, respectively, in the year 2014.

Jane's practically bubbling with scientific questions when she sees them that she rapid fires off at both them before redirecting the questions to Tony and Bruce when Steve and Bucky both play dumb. Darcy's eyes are a little wide but she's looking over them both, metal arm and all, like she'd like nothing more than to have _them_ for Thanksgiving dinner instead of the turkey. Ian's at her side, looking on with the sort of resigned, fond exasperation that comes from having to deal with this sort of thing on a regular basis. Bucky smirks seductively back at her while Steve just gives a polite smile and they both note her resulting full body shiver before she complains to Natasha again about 'beefcake' and 'swimming'.

Soon after introductions they all get put to work by Pepper, filing into and filling the large kitchen to it's intended capacity. They all get separated into groups to start making the mashed potatoes, stuffing, salads, fruit platters, and pies.

Bruce gets designated as head of the fruit cutting and arranging with Jane, while Darcy, Ian, and Natasha are in charge of the salads. Tony, a little too gleefully, is in charge of smashing the potatoes that Pepper skins and boils before handing them off to him, while Clint and Thor work on the stuffing.

Steve and Bucky immediately volunteered to make the pies, so they work together to make a couple of the apple pie that Steve's mother used to make and a couple of the pumpkin that _Bucky's_ mother used to make. The kitchen is filled with laughter that's both unfamiliar to them but warm, filled with the smells of food the likes of which Steve and Bucky both haven't smelled in a long time, not since both of their families were still alive and they had Thanksgiving separately.

It takes them down memory lane while helping them make new ones too.

–

Natasha's in the middle of dicing a tomato when Darcy not-so-subtly leans over into her space, inspecting a few green onions mock interestingly as she does. “So,” Darcy starts casually.

Natasha keeps her eyes on the tomato as she makes the last slice, dumping the cut up pieces into a large bowl. “So,” Natasha replies back nonchalantly.

Darcy's silent for a few moments before she looks over her shoulder across the kitchen at James, who's in the middle of of helping Steve put together the second apple pie's filling, pausing every so often to consult with Steve on old, remembered directions. “You and him?” Darcy finally asks, far more perceptive than Darcy lets on.

Natasha tries to keep a smile off of her face, bringing her knife down on another tomato. “Of course,” Natasha replies casually, voice kept low, though she's sure James could still hear her if he wanted.

Darcy glances at Natasha before making an agreeing sound in the back of her throat, looking back over her shoulder after a moment before asking, “You're _still_ hitting that?”

This time Natasha does smile, eyebrows rising slightly as she glances over at Darcy mid-slice, not missing a beat. “Of course,” she repeats, “Sometimes,” she adds after a moment.

Darcy nods once approvingly before grabbing a cutting board and laying the green onions down, taking a knife and beginning to chop. She sighs dramatically after a few slices. “Totally not fair. He must be good,” Darcy says, voice also low.

“He is,” Natasha replies, dumping the second diced tomato into the large bowl with the first.

“And now they're tapping each _other_ ,” Darcy sighs, looking back over her shoulder again at Steve and Bucky. Natasha glances over as well just in time to see Steve flick a little bit of flour at Bucky, who retaliates by smearing some of the apple mix onto the tip of Steve's nose. They both laugh after Bucky leans in and licks it off, smirking with his eyebrows raised as Steve pushes at Bucky's right shoulder with a hand. “The things I would do to see _that_. Hell, the things I would do to be _in_ that,” Darcy says wistfully.

Bucky glances over at the two of them while Steve lays a crust in a pie dish, smirking in their direction while Darcy blushes. “Shit, right, super _everything_ ,” Darcy says, remembering, “Well good. Now he knows he's welcome to stop by my place _any time_ ,” she finishes in his direction, and Bucky's smirk widens into a grin before he turns back around to to start working on the pumpkin pies.

Natasha chuckles quietly before going back to her tomatoes, slicing the third one in half. “Of course,” she repeats again, and Darcy lets out a laugh.

–

 _There's too much food_ , is Steve's first thought. The large table on the other side of the kitchen bar, that had previously had at least six too many seats for all of the occupants of the Tower to fill, have become the perfect amount to seat all of them _and_ their guests. Tony takes up the head of the table, Pepper at his left and Bruce at his right. Bucky is on Bruce's right, followed by Steve, Sam, Selvig, and Natasha. Jane is on Pepper's left, followed by Thor, Darcy, Ian, and Clint, and the table is _covered_ in food. Aside from where their plates, glasses, and silverware are set out, there's not an inch of free space. Steve's never seen so much food laid out before in his _life_.

Sam's introduces himself to Selvig, offering a hand while saying, “Hi, I'm Sam. I hear you're an astrophysicist. I failed biology.”

Selvig shakes it while replying with an open smile, “That's alright, I did too. Besides, the methods they use in the schools here are horse manure.”

Sam laughs before Selvig turns to Natasha. “So what is it you do?” He asks, friendly smile still on his face.

Natasha smiles politely back while saying, “I'm an ex-KGB assassin turned secret agent spy.” Tony's head snaps up at that and he turns to Pepper to mouth, “ _That's really true?_ ” Pepper smiles back and just pats Tony's hand while Tony's stares at Natasha for a moment in bewilderment.

“Well, isn't that nice,” Selvig replies honestly. Natasha's smile grows.

Clint and Ian debate over the news of a second _Pacific Rim_ movie coming out while Darcy chimes in and expounds about the 'mech and monster' designs and, “all that cool blue shit!”

Thor and Jane conversing quietly amongst themselves, Pepper chiming in and conversing with them every so often.

Bruce cleans his glasses while leaning back in his chair to ask Selvig about his work behind Bucky, Steve, and Sam.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve leans over and whispers, a little wide eyed as he looks over all of the food laid out on the table. Bucky looks back at him while leaning in closer in return.

“I know,” Bucky whispers back, his own eyes wide and roaming over it all as well, “It's like the _Depression_ never even _happened_.”

Tony chooses that moment to stand up, raising his whine filled glass with him and knocking his fork against the glass with a few quick, resounding _dings_ , setting the fork back down onto the table as everyone turns their heads to look at him. “Everyone,” Tony starts after he's sure he has all of their attention, “I'd like to give my thanks.”

The table goes silent and Tony looks around at everyone for a moment. “I'll start off by saying, I used to give these kinds of speeches half-assed and more than a little drunk back in the day, but I mean this one, and I'm sober as can be,” Tony starts, raising his still full glass of wine a little in indication as a few of people around the table chuckle, “And since this isn't some formal speech for the press or to impress and meet the demands of people I couldn't care less about _impressing_ or _meeting the demands_ _of_ , but to true, honest friends whose opinions matter to me, I just want to say...Thank you,” Tony says a little softer, eyes seeking out each person's face.

“This is the biggest family I've ever had, and the biggest _Thanksgiving_ I've ever had,” and Bucky shifts just a little in his seat - barely noticeable - uncomfortable at the thought of Howard and Maria, but he meets Tony's eyes when they find him. Steve takes Bucky's hand under the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, I lost my parents when I was young - I'm sure everyone knows - and maybe I lost estranged dinners with my dad and lonely ones with my mom,” Tony continues, eyes going around the table for a moment before landing on Bucky again, as he adds, “But I've gained _so much more_ since then, and I _am **thankful**_ for it.”

Bucky bites the side of his cheek for a moment before letting out a small smile. Tony smiles back before looking out at the others again, each and every single one of them. “I'm thankful for everyone who's here today, for coming and for putting up with me. Thank you for being my friends, my family, for fighting alongside me and helping me even when I try to push you all away,” Tony says honestly, “Thank you for trusting me enough to stay here and let me try to help,” he adds with a look at Steve, then Bucky. Steve smiles at him, something small and warm. Tony grins back before looking down to his side at Pepper, where he says softly, “And thank you for giving me back my heart.”

Pepper smiles up at him, something so openly loving and private that a few people look away and towards their own partners in crime in response.

“Just... _Thank you_ , everyone, I mean it. Thanks,” Tony finishes, looking out at the table one more time as everyone claps or smiles, all raising their glasses before taking a sip of their drinks after Tony's sat down and does so himself. “Feel free to say your own thing if you guys want to,” Tony adds after he sets his glass back down, reaching past his plate to spoon some of the potatoes he personally mashed onto it.

Thor stands up mid-reach of three rolls and clears his throat, withdrawing his hand as he does so. Everyone pauses in grabbing their own food as he starts. “My friends, I am grateful to be counted among you in this celebration, and I am grateful to have been fortunate enough to fight with you in our many battles,” he pauses to look down at Jane after a moment, continuing softer, “And I am grateful that you would have me at your side again after not being able to reach you for two of your years. I understand that, that is a long time for you, and I will never not be thankful for your love.”

Jane practically melts in her chair before quickly pulling Thor down into a kiss. He lowers himself into his chair at her mercy while Darcy stands up, and they all take turns.

Darcy's grateful for, “My crazy life, my wonderful friends, my amazing boyfriend, and having a hot ass- Hey! You know I do and it looks good!” Everyone laughs while Ian starts to nod in agreement before catching himself and clearing his throat.

Ian's thankful for, “Darcy, Selvig, Jane, Thor - _all of you_ \- and the times I spent bird watching with my dad.”

Selvig is thankful that, “The world is still crazier than I am. I'm thankful for physics, for Jane and my friends, all of whom I consider family.”

Clint's thankful for, “The money I won off of Tony in that bet that I used to get that new bow I wanted,” smirking back at Tony when Tony sticks his tongue out at Clint in return. Clint's eyes go to Natasha briefly and hers meet his, but neither of them say anything on it.

Natasha's thankful for, “My new guns, a wonderful meal, and present company to share it with.”

Sam's thankful for, “My family and the VA. The time I had with Riley, my best friend, and the new friends I've gained. Even if you are all batshit crazy.” They all laugh while Tony nods in agreement and Bucky shrugs. Steve angles his head a little with a small smile.

Pepper's thankful for, “Not having to find another job. I _hate_ job hunting.” She and Tony share private smile on some inside joke that none of the others get before sharing another kiss.

Bruce is thankful for, “A place to hang my hat that I feel comfortable and secure enough in to let myself do, and the chance at a different kind of life than I've had to lead until just recently. Thank you, Tony,” he finishes sincerely. Tony rests his hand on Bruce's shoulder and they share a smile.

They've all been serving themselves in between everyone's speeches, pausing in their eating or spooning of food when someone stands - or stays seated - to talk. When it's finally down to Bucky and Steve left, they get a few curious glances aimed their way to see if either of them will talk, Darcy bluntly staring at Bucky and making her eyebrows jump. Bucky snorts and smirks lewdly back and she grins in return. But no one forces them to talk, nor seems to really expect them to, and that's almost more pressure than if they did.

Bucky finally decides to stand up after a few minutes and everyone stills, eyes going to him as most of them put their knives and forks back down.

Bucky doesn't shift nervously or fidget, just stands tall and straight like a soldier, like a man, and stares right back at everyone unflinchingly like he's used to being the center of attention. As _James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes_ he was, dancing and charming his way under the spotlight. As _The Winter Soldier_ it was more him being inspected as a weapon than a human being, checked for efficiency and if he was in working order. As he is now, Steve's not sure what Bucky thinks of being the center of attention, but he's handling it as if it were nothing. Maybe, after everything, or in comparison, for him it _is_ nothing.

“I haven't given anything close to a speech in a long, _long_ time,” Bucky starts a little quietly, raising his voice a bit after a few moments of gathering his thoughts as he continues, “So I'll try to keep this short. I'm thankful to all of you for treating me like a person, even when I myself didn't feel like one for a long time, and I'm thankful for ya spendin' Thanksgivin' with Steve and me. We haven't had one since before the war, so this is...really somethin'.”

Everyone's smiling at him but Bucky's eyes drop down to Steve's, who looks back up at him with his lips curved up in a warm, small smile. Maybe to everyone else it would seem like it's not enough, or that Steve doesn't care as much as they think he should, but Bucky knows better. For Steve, that warmth in his expression is practically laying himself open bare in front of a bunch of strangers, which, technically, most of these people still are, and Bucky appreciates that Steve's letting himself do it.

“And I'm thankful that I'm here with you, eatin' this huge dinner with more food than I can ever remember seein', or havin' back when we last did this,” Bucky continues a little quieter. The others can still hear him in the silence, but he means this part for Steve alone and smiles with the same warmth down at him. Steve's smile stretches up a little further in return.

“I'm thankful we're still stickin' it out together, even after seventy years of bein' nothing but the weapons someone else fired. I'm thankful, bad as it might sound, that you fell after me off of that train, because if you hadn't...I don't know where either of us would be right now, but I know it wouldn't be here like this. Together. At least not for a long time,” Bucky says, voice going softer. He stares down at Steve for a moment before he finally says in an almost whisper, “I'm thankful for _you_ , Stevie.”

Bucky sits back down as Steve blinks back the tears in his eyes, looking around the table when he hears a sniffle. Jane and Darcy are both dabbing their eyes with their napkins while Thor wraps his arm around Jane's shoulders to pull her in close, smiling at Steve and Bucky. Ian offers his hand to Darcy which she takes. Natasha catches Bucky's eye and gives him a slight nod. Bucky inclines his head slightly in return.

Everyone takes a moment to make sure Bucky's done before they start to reach for their silverware again, and Steve forces himself to stand up next, heart leaping into his throat when everyone's eyes go to him. Some are surprised, others patient, kind, curious and waiting. Steve glances over at Sam, who gives him an encouraging smile and a small nod, before his eyes drop down to the table, taking a moment to think.

His head's a scattered, nervous mess, so he forces himself to take a quiet, steadying breath while closing his eyes, unclenching his fingers from where they have curled into anxious fists at his sides.

Steve opens his eyes back up and looks around at everyone seated at the table, squaring his shoulders a little before he starts, a bit like he's about to head into battle. “I'm...also not accustomed to being at the center of attention, not like this. Back before the war, the only time I was the center of attention was when I was getting beat up in an alley or behind a diner. When I became... _Captain America_ , that's all anyone ever really saw, except for Bucky, Peggy,” Steve keeps his voice from cracking, “Dum Dum, Jim, Gabe, Dernier, and Falsworth. Colonel Philips, and Howard,” Steve adds, glancing at Tony who only stiffens briefly before relaxing again, giving a slight nod to Steve to signal him to go ahead. Steve's eyes go back to the table for a moment before looking out at everyone again, all of their eyes on him.

“All of you - maybe some of you still - see me as _Captain America_ , or _The Soldier_ , I don't know, but I do know that when I look back at each of you I know that's not _all_ you see. You see me as I am now, a broken man, a broken idea, a broken weapon that has the hope of maybe being whole again, someday. And each of you help me feel that hope a little, too,” Steve continues, voice softening after a moment, “and I'm _thankful_ for that. I'm thankful that you see me as not just who I _was_ , but who I _am_ _now_.” _At least as much as they can_ , Steve adds in his head.

Steve glances down at Bucky, whose expression is attentive and has his eyes on him, and Steve can tell he's thought the same thing.

Steve smiles slightly and Bucky smiles a little back. “I'm thankful for the time I've been able to spend here with all of you,” he starts again, eyes going to everyone seated at the table for a moment, “I'm grateful that I got to see Peggy one last time, to share seventy years with her even if it was only for an hour, and got to say our goodbyes.” Steve looks back to Bucky after a moment, eyes softening further, “And I'm thankful that _you're_ here with me, Buck, in this crazy future that doesn't even have flying cars.”

They share a private grin while a few others chuckle, Steve's expression going soft again. “I'm thankful that I'm not here alone, and that you've been with me every step of the way, even when I know all you wanted to do when I asked if you would follow me in that bar all those years ago was go back to Brooklyn and call it a day,” Steve continues, voice lowering, “I know I asked a lot of you, but I'm glad you stayed with me through it all. I haven't made it easy - I know I haven't, but _thank you_ , for following after me and saving my life - not just in alleyways or behind diners or in the school yard, but in war, and in this future we're living in.” Steve watches Bucky blink back his own tears and sits back down, leaning over to press his lips gently to Bucky's for the briefest moment, only pulling back far enough after to say quietly against Bucky's lips, “I'm thankful for _you_ , Buck.”

There's a few moments of silence before Darcy lets out a, “You **_guys_** ,” drawing everyone's attention to her. She blows her nose into her napkin before wiping at her eyes and sniffling, “I'm sorry. You two are just making me so _emotionally **stupid**_ right now with your _love confessions_.”

That gets a laugh out of almost everyone and a smile out of everyone else, all picking back up their silverware.

“That was beautiful, everyone,” Pepper says gently. Tony leans in to press a kiss to her cheek and then everyone's digging into their meals.

Steve holds Bucky's right hand under the table as he takes a bite of his turkey with the other, Bucky doing the same while pressing his right leg into Steve's left under the table.

–

After Thanksgiving dinner (and putting food away and in containers for their guests to take with them), they all decide to go out. It's New York, and there's businesses, bars, and clubs open for those who ignore the festivities or have more free time to spend their money. Tony tells them they're going to go club hopping.

“Tony, _no_ ,” Pepper replies almost immediately. It's her most commonly used weapon.

“Oh, come on, Pepp, it'll be fun,” Tony promises. “ _Pleeease_ ,” he wheedles, pouting at her for all he’s worth, and everyone would probably buy it if they didn't know him so well. Pepper's expression goes a mix of conflicted and hesitant before she finally lets out a conceding sigh. Tony throws his fists up into the air with a victorious shout before running towards the elevators with Darcy pulling Ian along with her to keep up. The others head over at their own pace.

Tony stops at the elevator and turns around, expression solemn. Everyone else stops before him. “Alright, wait, first - since we’re going clubbing, _everyone_ needs to dress appropriately,” he starts, “If you don’t have the proper clothes, which I’m assuming is most of you, Pepper will get you figured out. Bruce, your build is close to mine, so you come with me.” Bruce raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest, just follows Tony into the elevator with Clint and Natasha.

Pepper shakes her head slightly before gesturing with her head towards the opposite end of the room at the second elevator, and everyone else followings her.

Steve fidgets slightly when the doors slide closed like they’re sealing his fate, and only jumps slightly when Bucky takes a hold of his hand. Steve turns his head to look at him, expression a little pinched.

“You’ll be fine,” Bucky reassures him quietly, giving his hand a squeeze, “It’s Pepper that’s helping us, and I’ll take her for advice on fashion sense over Tony any day.”

Steve glances over at Pepper, who notices after a moment and smiles back just before the doors open and everyone starts to step out. Steve lets out a nervous breath and follows, still holding Bucky's hand.

–

Pepper, probably knowing just how nervous about this Steve actually is, doesn't do more than put him in a tighter pair of jeans. She leaves him in his dark blue, long sleeved shirt but instructs him to push the sleeves up to his elbows, which he does, because everyone listens to Pepper, even Steve and Bucky. He doesn’t want to draw attention in a more revealing shirt that shows his scars, but the few that are visible with the pushed up sleeves he’s comfortable with.

Bucky gets put into a long sleeved shirt from the t-shirt he wore to dinner so that his left arm is covered, and also gets put into a tighter pair of jeans (a _much_ tighter pair). “Bucky,” Steve starts, staring down at the black jeans. They're so... _tight_. How did he even get _into_ them. “Aren't those-”

“For girls? Yeah. But damn do I look good in them,” Bucky says with a short spin, giving Steve a smirk and a wink. Steve just laughs.

Everyone else gets dressed _appropriately_ (“ _Flashy but classy_ ,” Sam says, slipping on a pair of expensive, designer sunglasses with a grin) and they all meet Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Natasha down in the Avengers Tower lobby.

“We all set?” Tony asks, eyes going over everyone before he nods approvingly and points dramatically to the lobby doors, “Perfect. Let's go.” Tony leads the way out to a limo waiting in front.

The limo draws attention, their whole _group_ draws attention, but Tony assures them that they won't be sticking at one place long enough for people to seriously start asking questions, and the fact that they're all dressed up helps hide who they are. Steve lets out a slightly nervous breath and looks out the limo's windows while Darcy breaks out the limo's stocked alcohol and Tony joins her. Bucky leans into Steve's side and rests his chin on Steve's right shoulder, watching the city roll by with him.

The first club they stop at is... _loud_. Steve's not as used to the volume or the environment as Bucky is, but Bucky and Natasha blend in with the best of them. It's easier for them, from their shared history and the shared missions they had being deployed more openly in the field than Steve was during their time with the Red Room. Bucky sticks close to Steve for the first few clubs they get into, keeping Steve barred from too much contact with the dancing, writhing masses of bodies on the nearby dance floor since he's uncomfortable with the proximity, and gives Steve the time to get more adjusted to the type of environment they're going to be in for the night.

There's cages set up in the first club and Tony goes up with Darcy and Selvig to dance in them, trying to get Pepper to join him the whole while - who refuses - but indulges Tony's insistence that he be photographed at his ' _best angles_ '. Jane laughs and records the whole thing and then they're gone just as the questions start coming in from the other club goers.

Tony orders drinks for everyone at every single club, and they all down them at the first couple clubs. Some of them go out onto the dance floor to dance but try to stick to the perimeter so they aren't as easily noticed, dancing with strangers and with each other. But by the time all of them have finished their drinks and had some fun they move onto the next place, keeping their stay short. That's the only rule they really have while they're out.

Bucky leaves Steve at the third club they go to, to dance with Natasha. The dark atmosphere and bright, constantly moving, flashing and colored lights make it a little hard to always keep track of everyone so they all stay relatively close for a while. Natasha's grinding between Bucky and Clint on the dance floor while Steve watches with a small smile, and Thor and Jane are doing some combination of I-danced-like-this-in-college and this-is-how-things-are-done-on-Asgard. It's...entertaining, to say the least, uncoordinated but they somehow manage to make it work.

Darcy's got herself sandwiched between Sam and a woman while Ian's sitting next to Selvig and Bruce in the booth with Steve, talking, watching, and laughing together while they sip on their drinks.

Pepper, surprisingly, is on the dance floor with Tony, and she's probably the only reason he's sticking to the outside of the mass and not out in the middle of the crowd giving the game away. Steve decides to stay in the booth with Selvig and Ian after he gets his drink, ignoring the offers and looks of strangers wanting to dance with him and instead just watching Bucky, Clint, and Natasha move on the dance floor. They all move with a kind of enviable grace, and Steve kind of wants to go join them, but he doesn't think he'd be any good. He never really got to practice.

By the time they get to the fourth club, Jane, Darcy, and Selvig are more than a little tipsy. Ian's been pacing himself and not finishing every single drink he's had, so he's faring a bit better than the others but still not entirely sober. Bruce stopped at two as a precaution, so he's keeping Selvig propped up in the booth, who's slurring something about physics, stars, and wormholes and 'gods in his head'.

This club has free glowsticks, and Sam and Clint have somehow made a competition out of who can juggle the most without dropping them. Sam is, impressively, keeping up with Clint, but it's obvious that Clint has more experience with it and soon enough Sam's losing his glowsticks all over the floor and handing Clint money with a frown. Clint accepts it between his teeth with a grin while he continues to juggle. Sam throws his hands up with an insuppressible grin and leaves him to it.

Natasha's dancing with Darcy and Ian - who finally let himself get dragged out onto the dance floor - while Bucky dances with Jane and Thor. Mostly, it's Bucky trying to help Thor keep Jane corralled between the two of them while laughing at her flailing version of dancing the whole time. Steve sits in the booth with Pepper and Bruce while Tony pulls a slurring Selvig up to hip bump each other across the dance floor, both wearing a wide grin.

Steve eventually, reluctantly, lets Pepper drag him up and pull him to the dance floor at the fifth club they go to - because no one says no to Pepper Potts. He darts a helpless, pleading look at Bucky as he goes and Bucky just grins back from where he's sprawled out in the booth, sweaty and taking a break from all the dancing. The alcohol's not affecting him, isn't affecting _either_ of them, but Bucky orders hard Vodka and shoots it with Natasha while Clint gags after taking a sip, eyes going wide.

Jane, Darcy, Ian, Selvig, and Sam are all occupying the booth with them, taking a break from the dancing themselves and from the drinks. Tony dances with Bruce not too far away. Bucky sprawls out a little further after taking another shot, getting a little more comfortable across the seat while talking a bit with the others and watching Steve try to dance with Pepper.

Natasha eventually pulls Sam and Clint up to dance again and they all move together near the table at the edge of the crowd, mostly in the dark save for the occasional colorful flash of strobe light that gets splashed over their dancing, sweaty forms and sets Natasha's hair afire.

Steve stands awkwardly at the edge of the dancing crowd where Pepper leads him and lets her direct his hands to her hips with a kind smile when he lifts them up but isn't sure where to put them. She places her own hands on his hips to help get him moving and it's hard to find the right rhythm until he, maybe sadly or helpfully, starts thinking of it like a mission. His movements smooth out and become liquid grace and rolling waves as they move together, feeling eyes on him from across the space to the booth. It's still awkward with Pepper because she can't move the way he does, but she does her best and he tries to compensate. After a few minutes of adjustment, they've both got the same rhythm and they're moving together as well as they're ever going to, both smiling at each other in the flashing lights. He glances over at Bucky with a grin and Bucky blinks a few times from where he's been staring at Steve and grins back, giving Steve a thumbs up with his leather glove covered left hand.

It's during the middle of the second song that Steve starts feeling hands skim over his body, never long enough to give him time to tell people to stop, but frequently enough that it's starting to get on his nerves. He shifts Pepper every so often under the guise of changing motion to the beat so that she doesn't have to go through the same problem, timing it just right so that she narrowly avoids – or preemptively avoids altogether – the various hands reaching out to skim across her body, too. But the ones specifically aimed at Steve are harder to avoid, especially if he's blocking them from Pepper, and he's not sure how to make it _stop_ without causing an incident or to stop dancing, and he can tell that Pepper isn't ready to. He tries to keep her from noticing, but as the night goes on more and more people are quickly losing their inhibitions to drink and he can't combat _that_.

After the third hand that's grabbed his ass and the fifth body that's tried grinding against his back, he lets out a quiet, frustrated sound, and Pepper leans back a little from where she's relaxed again his front with her arms comfortably draped around the backs of his shoulders. “Steve?” she asks quietly enough so that only he will hear, glancing over his shoulder. Her expression goes a combination of irritated and knowing, and she looks about two seconds away from saying something before something else catches her attention and her eyes dart off to the side. A small mix of a smirk and smile slips onto her lips before she looks back up at him. Steve blinks down at her, gritting his teeth with a slightly pinched expression as the next hand slides over his ass, eyebrows pulling together in confusion when she leans up and kisses his cheek before taking a step back, sliding away from him and heading over to the booth. He turns after a moment to follow but then there's a body in front of him blocking his path, a man that he doesn't recognize whose breath, practically made of alcohol, is blowing into his face.

“How about a dance?” the guy asks with a slow grin, and Steve stiffens, putting on a small and pinched smile as he shakes his head slightly.

“No, thank you, I'm just going to go over to my friends and take a break,” Steve replies, moving to go around him.

The guy makes a grab for him that Steve dodges before managing to step around him, but then the man's quickly stepping back in front of him and blocking his path again. “Don't be like that,” the guy starts, hand reaching out to grab Steve's arm, and Steve's starting to panic because he's tired of unfamiliar hands touching him (like Zola, like scientists, like in _ **that** room_ -) and the club's walls are starting to feel like they're shrinking in on him - _too small_ \- and Steve _needs to get away_ -

Metal wrapped in leather and flesh fingers take a firm hold of his hips and pull him back out of reach just as the hand making a grab for him is about to circle his bicep. The man's fingers closing on thin air as Steve's back hits a hard chest, a familiar scent pushed forward from the motions of dancing bodies around them and Steve sinks back against it slightly, the familiar smell slowing his rapidly beating heart.

“He said he doesn't want to,” says a low voice just over his left shoulder, and Steve lets out a breath.

“Hey! You can't-” The guy starts, but a loud growl close to Steve's ear cuts the man off and the man's eyes go wide at the look on Bucky's face that Steve can't see. He's got a pretty good idea of what it looks like, though, and if he were anyone else, he'd be backing away too.

The guy raises his hands in surrender before slowly taking a few more steps back and turning, quickly walking away. Steve feels Bucky nose at the side of his neck just under his ear while sliding his left hand up Steve's side. “Dance with me?” Bucky asks lowly, and Steve lets Bucky feel the shiver that runs through his body at the sound of his voice before he takes a steadying breath and nods.

Bucky slides his left hand all the way up Steve's side, nudging under his arm slightly so that Steve lifts it and curves it around the back of Bucky's neck, Bucky's right hand that he still has on Steve's hip guiding it into motion with the beats of the loud music overhead. Steve lifts his freehand to set it on top of the one Bucky has on Steve's hip, slotting their fingers together over it as they move, and it's easier, each motion smooth, flowing like water as they sway back and forth into and against each other, parting by inches before meeting again. As soon as their hips move all the way to one side they both seamlessly shift them to move towards the other, moving together with motions almost seem like a loop without end, even with their metal limbs. It's different than it was with Pepper. Bucky moves like Steve does, like light on a rotating dagger, gleaming end over end of the surface without break. It feels easy, like two parts of one machine making the whole thing move, like two steps traversing a mile. It feels like a _dance_.

The song changes and Bucky speaks lowly into his ear, “ _They're watching you_.”

Steve opens his eyes from where they've closed against the darkness and streaming lights of the club to see eyes on him, curious, interested glances and drunken, lust glazed stares. It's uncomfortable, but part of him finds it a little thrilling. He's never really thought on desire before, never really considered himself _desirable_. He supposes now he can see the appeal, feel a moment of how it must be for Natasha, for Bucky, even if he doesn't entirely want it.

Steve angles his head to the side as Bucky presses a kiss to a point between his shoulder and neck, just above the collar of his shirt, nudging Steve's hips forward a little with their slotted fingers, sliding his gloved index finger up the line of Steve's spine while speaking lowly into his ear, “Bow your back.”

Steve tilts his head slightly to try and try to get a look at Bucky, but all he manages to see is a glimpse of Bucky's eyes focused intently on their onlookers, blue-gray made electric in streaming lights. Bucky's eyes shift to his and the look in them is predatory. It makes a shiver run up his spine for a reason entirely different from fear.

“ _I want them to **know**_ ,” Bucky says quietly, just for Steve's ears, and Steve's not entirely sure what Bucky means for a moment before it clicks and he gets it. He arches his back, curving his abdomen out towards the room while his hips move from side to side slightly with Bucky’s to the beat while Bucky's gloved hand slides around Steve's side to slide up along Steve's stomach. Bucky drags the bottom of Steve's shirt up above Steve's bellybutton with the friction of the glove, baring Steve’s lightly scarred skin to the clubs’ dark and flashing lights. Most of the scars are from Bucky, and that just adds to the heady heat flowing just under Steve’s skin.

The leather covered metal slides back down over Steve's warm skin, fingers sliding just past the top of Steve's low slung jeans. A few of the people looking quickly turn their eyes away at Bucky's possessive display, some nearly take a step forward as they stare before they get a good look at Bucky's eyes and wisely decide against it.

Bucky's gloved hand slides a little lower, fingertips slipping down past Steve's underwear and just barely brushing the top of his cock before parting on either side of it, just holding there. And it probably shouldn't turn Steve on as much as it does, but the sensation of leather is new and there's a shot of adrenaline and thrill about finally being out in _public_ , about being this _intimate_ in public, and it's...well, it's _Bucky_.

A breathy sound snakes past his lips when Bucky's teeth gently bite down on the side of his neck in counterpoint to the soft leather around the top of his cock. Bucky presses his left hand flat and firmly to Steve's abdomen to pull him back in and Steve rolls his hips with motion, curving his body back towards Bucky's front and pressing his back into him. Bucky presses him in closer, grinding into him from behind and something hard digs into his ass. “Now they know,” Bucky says, voice rough in Steve's ear before he bites Steve's down on Steve's earlobe sharply.

Steve lets out a quiet, surprised sound on a breath and tightens his grip around the back of Bucky's neck, grinding back against him and getting a low groan in his ear from Bucky in return. “Let's go back,” Steve says quietly, voice rough.

Bucky slides his hand out of Steve's pants a moment later and Steve lets go of the back of Bucky's neck when he steps to the side, smoothly sliding his left arm around Steve's waist and pulling him out of the edge of the dancing crowd, past the booths where their friends are staring at them on the way to the door.

Darcy and Jane's eyebrows are practically in their hairlines, and Sam's patting Darcy on the shoulder with a, “You get used to it.” Tony clinks glasses with Sam's in agreement before draining it in one go and getting up to follow. Natasha pushes Clint's jaw closed while taking a last shot of Vodka before pushing him out of the booth to follow, the others sliding out as well.

“Welp! Guess that's our cue to head back and have an orgy!” Tony announces.

" ** _I'm_** _in_ ," Darcy immediately replies.

Pepper lightly smacks Tony on the arm before grabbing the bottom of the front of his shirt and pulling him along behind her towards the door after Bucky and Steve. The others all follow, but Steve and Bucky don't look back.

Fury and Coulson are waiting for them at the Tower when they get back.

–

_Chapter Epilogue: The souvenir from Budapest_

“I'm being followed,” Bucky says lowly into his earpiece, walking casually down the crowded street with his baseball cap pulled low and his hands in his pockets, fully aware of the two knives holstered to his back under his jacket and the three guns he has on his person.

“ _Source?_ ” Natasha asks in his earpiece.

“Currently unknown,” Bucky replies, angling his head just slightly to try and get a glimpse at whoever is tailing him over his shoulder, “Best guess would be Hydra.”

“ _But it could be another organization or a branch off of the Red Room_ ,” Natasha replies seamlessly in his ear.

Bucky doesn't reply, just takes a casual right turn down an alley. As soon as he knows he's out of sight of civilians he sprints with his enhanced speed, far enough to duck down low behind a large dumpster halfway down the alley. He holds still, keeping his breathing shallow and quiet as he listens for following footsteps.

Whoever is tailing him comes around the corner after a few seconds, footsteps stuttering to a halt at the sight of the empty alley before they start up again, slow and cautious and never making it out of this alley again.

Bucky waits, crouched low in black civilian clothes, reaching back for one of the daggers sheathed at his lower back beneath is coat, left hand gripping the hilt. He stays still until 'whoever' turns out to be a man, and as soon as he takes the first step into Bucky's line of sight Bucky rushes up, unsheathing the knife and slicing up in one swift motion. The man just barely dodges back, almost completely out of reach except for-

Both of their eyes follow it as it falls to the paved ground, both silent for a moment before Bucky's eyes slowly drag back up to the man's face, focused expression cracking at the look of shock and abject horror the man's wearing as blood trails down over his lips, his nose sliced off.

Bucky sputters and bursts out laughing, and the man is stock still, shocked for another instant before he opens his mouth wide to scream and Bucky lunges in, shoving him back against the wall with a hand over the man's mouth just as he's about to start yelling, still shaking with laughter.

“Oh _man_ ,” Bucky says as he takes deep gulps of air, head dropped as his body shakes with his silent laughs, holding the man in place with his right hand still covering the guy's mouth and the blade tip of his knife pressed just slightly to the man's stomach to keep him from struggling. Bucky lifts his head, looking down into the man's horrified, panicked, and pained eyes, ignoring the blood trailing down over the top of his hand. “I have to show Steve this,” Bucky says with a grin before driving the knife up under the man's ribs and into his heart. He steps back and lets the man drop, kneeling down to wipe the blood on the back of his hand off on the man's jacket, cleaning the knife's blade off on it as well before holstering it beneath his own coat. Bucky checks the guy's pockets and finds a suit pin, lifting it up to his eyes to get a better look at it.

“ _What happened?_ ” Natasha asks in his ear, gone silent when he did.

“Nothing. Just took care of that tail,” Bucky replies, pocketing the pin before standing up, reaching down to lift the body up by the back of the pants under the man's jacket with his left hand and carry him over to the large dumpster. He opens the long lid with his right hand and drops the body in, closing the lid quietly.

“ _Hydra?_ ” Natasha asks a moment later.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, walking over and kneeling down to pick up the sliced off nose, grinning as he stands back up and heads down the alley. He slips it into the pocket of his jacket.

Natasha meets him where she's leaned against the wall just around the alley's exit's corner, arms crossed. She pushes herself off of the brick and falls seamlessly into step at his side. “What are you grinning about?” she asks, glancing over at him.

Bucky's grin widens a little further, both hands tucked back into his pockets. “Oh nothing, I just found the perfect souvenir.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't explain further, instead pulling out the pin and handing it over to her. “A way to identify Hydra agents, maybe,” he suggests. Natasha takes the pin and examines it for a moment before pocketing it herself, nodding her head slightly.

They continue on their way, not a single person giving them a second glance.

–

Steve pushes himself up from where he's been sitting cross legged in front of the large floor to ceiling windows of the empty entertainment room for the last few hours when he hears the apartment door open. Sam’s been a silent, comforting presence by his side while he’s been staring out at the city, just watching and waiting as patiently as he can. He just barely keeps himself from running to the door like a dog greeting its owner when he hears purposefully heavy boot steps. As it is, he can’t stop himself from standing up just a little too fast.

Sam follows suit, albeit slower, patting Steve's shoulder with a knowing smile as he heads into the living room and for the door, passing Bucky with a, “Hey, man.”

“Hey, Sam. Bye, Sam,” Bucky replies with a grin, Sam grinning back before he closes the apartment door behind him. “I got you something,” Bucky says to Steve with a mischievous grin, pulling a small box out of his jacket pocket as he comes to a stop in front of him a foot away.

“What is it?” Steve asks, mood already lifting now that Bucky's back, but he eyes Bucky's mischievous expression with a suspicious one of his own, taking the box from him slowly. That look has never gotten either of them anywhere good.

“Just look,” Bucky says a little eagerly, practically bouncing on his feet.

Steve holds the small box in one hand while carefully lifting the top with the other, eyes widening briefly when he finally glances inside. He shoots Bucky a look, who's shaking with silent laughter, face going red as he tries to hold it in.

Steve raises an eyebrow and Bucky finally lets his laugh out, doubling over with the force of it. “Steve, _Steve-_ ” Bucky gets out between laughs, taking in large gulps of air as he straightens back up after a few moments and wipes the tears from his eyes, “' _Got your nose_ '. Get it?”

“ _Yeah, Buck, I get it_ ,” Steve replies deadpan, but his lips twitch up at Bucky's slightly renewed laughter. It's good to hear it again in what's otherwise been a mostly silent space. “Your sense of humor hasn't gotten any better since the forties.”

“Shut up,” Bucky replies with another laugh, pushing Steve's shoulder gently, “I'm funny as hell. And this happened completely on accident! I didn't orchestrate or plan it or nothin'.”

Steve looks back down at the nose in the small box, looking back up at Bucky after a moment and cracking a smile. “You couldn't bring me back a finger or something? At least _that's_ in the movies. I thought you'd be all over it,” Steve says.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says urgently, crossing the foot of space between them to wrap his right arm around Steve's shoulders and pull Steve into his side as he leans in close. “' _Got your nose_ ',” Bucky stresses, “I _couldn't_ pass that up. I couldn't. And you should’a seen his face!”

Steve huffs a laugh, leaning into Bucky as he looks back down at it. “It _is_ pretty funny,” Steve finally concedes, expression going serious for a moment as he looks back up at Bucky. “Hydra?”

Bucky lets out a sigh, releasing Steve's shoulders. “Yeah,” he replies, sliding a hand through his own hair, “Still. Makes it even better, don't'cha think?”

Steve smiles again before leaning into press his lips to Bucky's. Bucky hums into the kiss, eyebrows up and eyes closed as he leans into until Steve pulls away. “Yeah, it does,” Steve replies. Bucky grins. It's a little sharper this time, but Steve can tell that he’s genuinely happy, too. Steve's just glad to have Bucky back, and that he thought of Steve while he was away, even if their humor's a little twisted.

“Welcome back,” Steve says a little softer.

Bucky smiles before leaning in to press another kiss to Steve's lips, pulling back after a moment to say just as softly, “Glad to be back.”


	20. Don't say a word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8q4HF87o-NA

 

“-epper, I _really_ wanna try body shots-” Tony says while looking at Pepper, cutting himself off when he looks forward and spots the two figures in the lobby for himself, all of them suddenly a little more sober at the two new additions. “Pepper, rain check,” Tony says a little more seriously, looking over to her after a moment and sending her a warm look, “Would you mind escorting our guests upstairs to the guest floors?” he asks a little softer.

“Of course,” Pepper replies, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek and whisper something in his ear that makes Tony stand up a little straighter and his mouth gape open. Tony stares after her as she says, “Follow me, everyone,” and leads Darcy, Jane, Ian, and Selvig away to an elevator at the end of the lobby, all sending curious glances to Coulson and Fury as they go.

“See ya later creepy eye patch man,” Darcy says lightly with a floppy salute, and then they’re alone.

“We have information,” Coulson says, calm as ever.

Bucky groans, dropping his head to press his forehead into Steve's shoulder. “Did Hydra really just cockblock me? _Fuck_ ,” he complains.

Clint and Tony give commiserating groans of their own while Coulson just smiles politely. They all walk the rest of the way to the second elevator, all filing in to take it up to the communal floor.

After they all spill out, everyone takes a seat at the large table that Bucky and Steve had just had Thanksgiving dinner at a few hours ago. Fury opens his mouth to start when Bucky cuts him off, slouched back a little sulkily in his seat. “Before you get started - no cryptic bullshit. Your Hydra info literally just cock blocked me and I have been catching up on nearly _seventy years_ of _no sex_. I am _not_ in the mood,” Bucky says moodily, shooting a dark look at Fury.

Everyone looks at Bucky before looking back at Fury. Tony's face is unimpressed but understanding, Clint's is amused, and Natasha's is unreadable save for the small twitch of her lips at the sides. Thor just laughs while Bruce cracks a smile. Steve nudges Bucky's leg under the table, unable to keep down a small smile of his own.

Fury closes his mouth with a wry twist to his lips before saying, “Happy _Thanksgiving_ to you, too”

Clint snorts while Tony rolls his eyes. Bucky just says, “It’d be a lot happier if you didn’t have to be here,” staring back.

Steve clears his throat and Bucky’s eyes dart to him, eyebrows raised ( _well it **would**_ ).

“Shall we get down to business,” Fury says rather than asks, nodding at Coulson to start. Coulson nods back before continuing for him, “We have information on _Project Insight_. Alexander Pierce put a project together that was designed to pre-emptively disable any possible threats after the occurrence of the Chitauri Invasion.”

Both Bucky and Steve hear Fury's heartbeat pick up in his chest just the smallest amount and they subtly focus in closer on him. He knows more. Fury notices their subtle scrutiny and purses his lips slightly before he lets out a sigh, folding his hands together on top of the table. “This is a project that I _was_ aware of, yes,” Fury admits. Everyone sits up a little straighter.

Tony throws his hands up like he should have seen this coming. Maybe he did. “ _Why_ didn't you tell us? I mean, sure, keeping secrets is your thing, but after Hydra attacked us at S.H.I.E.L.D.? _Twice_? And we found out that they _are_ in S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Tony lets out, frustrated.

“I wanted to make _absolutely sure_ that it wasn't something else,” Fury tries to defend, looking back at Tony's frustration with his own. Fury’s eye glances around at the others seated at the table before looking down at his hands, “I've known Pierce a _long_ time. He _made_ _me_ director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I had to be sure.”

“Great, so now you're sure,” Tony says sarcastically after a moment, pressing his palms onto the top of the table, “So what exactly _**is** 'Project Insight'_?”

“It's a targeting system, designed to, as Coulson said, track and take out threats before they get started. It's been jokingly called our Watch Tower by those with a high enough clearance to be privy to it,” Fury responds. He looks directly at Tony as he says this next part, “It's three helicarriers, all with updated engines that have the same propulsion system as your Iron Man suit, which allows them to fly more efficiently and longer, and they're armed to the teeth. They'll be practically impenetrable once they're operational.”

Tony tenses, jaw working for a few moments before he finally gets the words out, “You _stole_ my propulsion design for _your **weapon**_?”

“For the _world's **safety net**_ ,” Fury stresses, but it falls flat in the face of Tony's anger, “And yes. You wouldn't give us the design and Pierce insisted we needed it. I couldn't argue against his reasoning with as sound it was, so he went forward with the application of it.”

Tony grinds his teeth together for a moment before he sits back in his chair, mouth flattening into an angry line.

“You designed a pre-emptive targeting system?” Clint asks with raised eyebrows, “To 'take out threats before they even happen'? How do you know what should and shouldn’t be classified as a threat? What if what the system thinks is ‘terrorist groups rallying’ is just a group of people getting together to play a game? What if it thinks ‘children being recruited to become soldiers’ is really just a bunch of kids grouping to learn self defense? There's too many factors, Fury.”

Fury looks over at Clint. “We scaled it down to specifics,” he replies curtly, “We can't afford another alien invasion happening on our front door, or any other invasion for that matter. It's to protect the _lives_ and _freedoms of everyone_.”

Everyone's silent for a moment, processing his words.

“That's not freedom, that's fear,” Steve says quietly, but voice firm, drawing everyone’s eyes to him.

Bucky's sitting up straighter in his chair but he still looks mostly relaxed, whether it's feigned or not is a mystery. Steve's sitting up straight with his eyes focused on Fury.

Fury lets out a sigh, collapsing back in his chair. He looks at Steve back straight in the eye. “The world's changed. A lot since you two were in it as you are now.”

“Maybe,” Steve concedes, still looking at him, “But maybe it didn't change for the better.”

Fury's mouth presses into its own line as he stares right back. Bucky sits up. “I didn't fucking _die_ for this shit,” he grumbles, pushing his hand back through his hair to get his bangs out of his face, “So Hydra's going to, what, reshape the world the way it wants? And you gave them the loaded gun.” Bucky points at Fury, eyebrows raised slightly and expression entirely unamused.

Fury looks to the table, expression going a little pinched.

“Fucking _perfect_ ,” Bucky lets out angrily after a few moments of Fury’s silence. Bucky grips the edge of the table with his right hand. “No, really. I’m glad to know I died so _Hydra_ of all groups could use a weapon our _own government_ was _stupid enough_ to build in the first place against _everyone_. For _fuck's sake_ , Fury,” Bucky continues, “I didn't fall a thousand feet off of a fucking _speeding train_ in the _alps_ for this _bullshit_.” He pushes his chair back and stands up, unable to contain his anger. He looks down at Fury, and _now_ he actually looks as angry as he sounds. “I died fighting so the world could be free from oppression, not locked up in another fucking cage and put under someone's watchful fucking eye like _I've_ been.” Fury's face goes pinched again at Bucky's words and Bucky stares him down. Steve doesn’t touch him, he’s just as angry.

“Where are the helicarriers launching from,” Steve demands after a moment.

Fury lets out another sigh as he looks between them, eyes finally settling on Steve. “The hangars under the river surrounding the Triskelion,” Fury answers, “But we can't get in with it as guarded as it is.” They're all quiet for a moment before Fury sits up a little again, pulling a five inch high, thin, metal piece of hardware out of his trenchcoat pocket and holding it up in front of him. “This will reroute the control system to the control room in the Triskelion, shutting down the programming done by Hydra so we can take back control of the helicarriers. We'll need to switch out and replace one in each of them, and it has to be done to all three or it won’t work, just one or two won't get the job done.”

Steve looks at the piece of hardware for a few moments in thought before he pushes his chair back and stands up as well, drawing everyone's thoughtful attention back to him. “Then we'll need a distraction, which I can provide.”

Bucky looks at him sharply, but Steve keeps his eyes on the others all still seated around the table. It feels familiar and new all over again. People waiting on his orders. “Sam and I will take the first helicarrier while I draw most of the obvious fire on the way to it. Bucky and Coulson will take the Triskelion control room and fend off any oncoming attacks there, since it will probably be the most guarded. Coulson can monitor the computers while Bucky keeps it from being overrun.” Bucky, Sam, and Coulson all nod in agreement, Coulson looking a little starstruck that Steve Rogers - _Captain America_ \- just gave him orders and Bucky quietly snorts at that. Fury looks unhappy about sending _The Winter Soldier_ with him, but says nothing. “Thor and the Hulk will take over the distraction when Sam and I near the first helicarrier. It's bound to have the most defense.”

“How do you know?” Coulson asks, and Steve looks down at him for a moment before glancing over to Bucky, smiling at him slightly, “'First the worst'.”

Bucky smirks back before Steve returns his attention to the others. “Clint will take the second helicarrier. Tony, you'll take the third,” Clint and Tony both nod in agreement. “Natasha, you'll go with Fury to deal with Pierce. We'll meet up again a few days before Christmas to go over the specifics and keep a track of all of Hydra and Pierce's activity in the mean time. Any disagreements?”

No one says anything, all eyes eventually falling on Fury when he, too, says nothing.

Fury's expression goes from frustrated to resigned after a few moments, sagging back slightly in his chair again. “Well, I guess _you're_ giving the orders now, Captain.”

Steve tenses slightly but doesn't say anything, shifting his eyes from Fury to the others around the table before he nods once, turning to head for an elevator with Bucky following right after him.

As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, Steve closes his eyes and finally lets out his sigh, body sagging slightly from its previously held stiff posture. Bucky reaches over and Steve feels his hand gently squeeze his left shoulder. “You okay?” Bucky asks quietly as the elevator moves.

Steve opens up his eyes to look over at him, smiling faintly. “No. I'm not,” he says honestly, voice quiet.

Bucky smiles slightly, a little helplessly in return before the elevator doors slide open on their floor. He slides his hand down from Steve's shoulder to take a hold of Steve's hand and lead him to the apartment door, opening it before pulling him inside. As soon as the door's shut Bucky turns and reaches up, gently cupping Steve's face in both of his hands, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Steve's. He looks between both of Steve's eyes as he says softly, “You did _fine_.”

Steve wraps his arms around the middle of Bucky's back and pulls him closer, eyes going down to look at the floor. “I'm not ‘ _Captain_ ’ anymore,” Steve starts quietly, pausing for a moment to process things while Bucky waits patiently. Steve shakes his head slightly against Bucky's before pulling his head back a couple of inches. “But maybe, just this one last time.”

Bucky smiles slightly before closing the couple of inches of space between them and pressing his lips to Steve's. Steve leans into it as he closes his eyes, bringing a hand up to cup Bucky's right cheek in return.

“I don't want to think about it,” Steve almost whispers against Bucky's lips when Bucky pulls back, eyes opening to see Bucky's are already on his.

“Want me to help you forget?” Bucky asks just as quiet, sliding his hands down from Steve's cheeks to the sides of his neck, over his collarbones and down his stomach to grab the front of Steve's jeans just underneath the bottom of his shirt, tugging gently a little teasingly as he undoes the top button. Steve sways a little closer with the motion.

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve answers honestly, emphatically, throat tightening slightly with the emotions he's not sure how to deal with. He leans back in to press his lips to Bucky's a little more urgently and Bucky returns it with a small, quiet sound while he slides down Steve’s zipper. He doesn't want to think about Captain America, he doesn't want to _be_ Captain America. He just wants to be Steve, just Steve and Bucky.

Bucky licks into his mouth as he pushes Steve's jeans down just a little past his hips and Steve opens his mouth to Bucky's tongue, slides his own along Bucky's and lets out a quiet, helpless sound when Bucky rubs the pad of his thumb lightly along a scar on Steve's left hip. There are tears building behind his eyelids and he's not sure what to do about it, what to do about anything. He's _never_ been sure what to do but get back up and take another step forward, another swing. That's all he's ever really known.

As Captain America - with the serum pumping in his veins and a team of men behind him - he strategized and planned and won battles. He put on a smile when the cameras cornered him and tried to keep off his face, out of his stance, how uncomfortable it really made him. He joined the war to fight for people, for freedom, not to be a dog and pony show. Peggy, Colonel Philips, Bucky, and the rest of the Howling Commandos - they understood that. But the world saw him as a poster on their wall and a comic book in their hands, as a news reel in a theater or a newspaper headline. He doesn't want to _be_ a spectacle anymore, not again, he just wants to be _him_.

Steve pulls in a quick breath through his nose and tries to hold back the sting at the backs of his eyes. Bucky pulls away at the sound, hands pausing on the bottom of Steve's shirt as he looks at him. Steve's eyes open to look back, bottom lip trembling. He bites it roughly between his teeth.

Bucky takes a step forward, settling both of his hands on Steve's hips as he pushes him back gently, Steve stepping back with it until his back touches the wall. Bucky leans in and Steve closes his eyes just before Bucky's lips are gently pressed to his eyelids. The tears Steve's been trying to hold back finally spill over and he blinks against them as he opens his eyes, vision blurred briefly and for a moment he thinks he has his Astigma back.

Steve opens his mouth to apologize but Bucky just shakes his head and he closes his mouth. Bucky leans in again, pressing a kiss to each of Steve's cheeks before kissing Steve's trembling bottom lip lightly. Steve sucks in a breath, forcing it past the emotions caught in his throat and Bucky leans back a few inches, just looking at him.

“I don't-” Steve gets out, quiet, voice breaking and breathing picked up.

Bucky squeezes Steve's hips gently, bringing his right hand up to brush his thumb softly across Steve's lower lip, eyes soft. “I know,” he replies, voice quiet.

Steve lets out a breath, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment to force the last of his tears out before looking at Bucky, who places his hand back on Steve's hip and slides his thumbs up under Steve's shirt to rub at Steve’s hip bones gently.

“You know...” Bucky starts after a minute, Steve's breaths calming back down, “I _was_ going to drag you up here and fuck you senseless,” Bucky says softly, eyes teasing.

Steve's not sure what it is, maybe the absurdity of Bucky’s statement, but he lets out a laugh, leaning his head down slightly as it slowly subsides. “Yeah?” he asks, lifting it head back up to look at Bucky, relaxing into the fingers massaging at his hips.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, expression going serious for a moment as he says, “And I don't think we should let Hydra have that.”

Steve's expression goes serious as well before Bucky puts on a cocky smirk and Steve can't help cracking a small grin. “So you want to fuck _me_ to tell them ' _fuck you_ '?” Steve asks, only partly joking.

Bucky smirks, leaning in close. “Steve, I want to fuck because I like it and I love doing it with you, and if we both get to say ' _fuck you_ ' to Hydra in the process then I'm not going to turn it down.” Bucky's smirk eases away and he smiles softly at Steve. Steve smiles back, leaning forward to gently press his lips to Bucky's, pulling back after a moment.

“What if I don't want to?” Steve asks, leaning his head back a little, expression going mock serious.

“Then we won't,” Bucky replies lightly, still smiling.

“...And what if I _do_ want to?” Steve asks next, leaning his head back against the wall and tilting it slightly to the side to bare the length of his throat.

“Then we will,” Bucky says a lower, voice rough, and eyes going a little wild. But all he does is lean in to press a light kiss to Steve's neck.

“Aren't you a gentleman,” Steve teases quietly.

Bucky scoffs quietly against his skin, leaning back a little to get a look at Steve's face. “I am _always_ a gentleman,” Bucky says primly, eyebrows raised.

Steve cracks a grin and Bucky grins back, meeting him in the middle when Steve leans in to kiss him quick. “Your eyes say different,” Steve says quietly against his lips.

Bucky's eyes darken as his warm breath ghosts across Steve's. “So do yours,” he says just as quietly back.

Steve blinks a little before he smiles slightly, closing his eyes for a moment to give a small nod.

Their lips meet again in brief kisses, each lasting longer than the one before it before Bucky leans his body in and presses Steve back a little more firmly against the wall, tongue slipping into Steve's mouth and finding his own.

Steve lets out a quiet sound that sounds closer to a growl than anything else as he brings his arms up to wrap around the back of Bucky's neck, pulling him in closer and grinding their hips together.

Bucky growls back into Steve's mouth before pulling back just enough to lean his head down and roughly bite the side of Steve's neck, Steve letting out a quick rush of breath as his fingers slide up into the back of Bucky's hair. “What was that about 'fucking me senseless'?” Steve asks a little breathlessly, and Bucky presses in tighter, drawing his tongue up over the bite and up to the bottom of Steve’s jaw. Steve leans his head back against the wall.

“ _You won't be able to walk tomorrow_ ,” Bucky says low and rough, biting sharply at Steve's jaw.

Steve hums a little, tilting his head to the side while saying, “You'd like that wouldn't you.”

“You _know_ I would,” Bucky replies, sliding his hands up under Steve's shirt to drag his nails and leather covered metal fingers over Steve's lightly scarred skin.

“Where did that _possessive streak_ come from,” Steve says with a small laugh, leaning his head back down to slide his tongue into Bucky's mouth on a kiss before Bucky can reply.

Bucky pulls back after a few moments, letting out a frustrated sound before sliding his left hand out from under Steve's shirt and bringing it up to his mouth. He uses his teeth to pull at the fingertips before pulling the whole thing off, spitting the leather out and letting it drop to the floor. “I've _always_ been possessive, I just never let you see it,” Bucky replies, looking back at Steve.

“ _Mmhmm_ ,” Steve returns with a raised eyebrow, sliding the hand that's not buried in Bucky's hair around to Bucky’s right shoulder.

Bucky snorts slightly, leaning in to lick at Steve's upper lip. “Don't ' _mmhmm_ ' me,” he says lowly, “Besides, it's not like _you_ don't have one too,” Bucky finishes mockingly snarky.

Steve tightens his grip on Bucky's shoulder before suddenly moving quickly, getting Bucky's legs out from under him and pushing him to the floor back first. Bucky lets out a surprised _whoosh_ of breath before Steve straddles his hips. “Oh, _I know it_ ,” Steve replies calmly with another raised eyebrow before leaning down and biting at Bucky's neck in return, right hand sliding up under Bucky's head to get a grip on the back of his hair and pull Bucky’s head back.

Bucky lets out a laugh that quickly turns into a groan as Steve grinds down into him, hands flying to Steve's hips. “ _Can't say I mind_ ,” Bucky says as he Steve's hands both slide slowly down from Bucky's shoulder and hair to down over his chest and underneath his shirt, pushing it up above his stomach before Steve leans down and runs his tongue over a scar.

The muscles of Bucky's stomach jump slightly at the sensation as he lets out a breath, arching his back slightly as Steve's tongue traces over another, larger scar closer to his side and the un-marred skin around it. “ _Really_ don't mind,” Bucky says a little breathlessly, and Steve glances up. Bucky rests his back on the floor after a moment and looks back down at him over the length of his own body.

The blue catches the light just right and Steve's eyes are just as wild and electric as Bucky’s have ever been.

–

December comes and with it the snow. It's old and familiar, like the place they died and the place they lived again. It settles over the city, covering everything in cold and white, and something eases in both their chests that they hadn't realized was clenched in the first place. Something new and something old.

The smell of something cooking wafts passed the slightly open bedroom door and Bucky blinks his eyes open slowly, squeezing them shut as he gives a full body stretch before pushing himself up and scooting back over to his side of the bed – having shifted to the middle of it at some point – and gets up to cross the space to the door, pulling it open and stepping out into the hall with a few sniffs.

He follows his nose and finds himself lead to the kitchen, watching Steve's back as he cooks something on the stove in a tank top and sweats. “Mornin',” Steve says without turning to look, smiling at Bucky over his shoulder after a moment.

Bucky yawns loudly before coming over, lifting his arms to wrap them around Steve's waist as he presses his boxer wearing front to Steve's back and rests his chin on Steve's right shoulder, looking over it and into the pan. “Pancakes?” Bucky asks a little groggily.

“Pancakes,” Steve confirms, flipping said pancake currently cooking in the pan with the spatula he has in his right hand. “Tired?” Steve asks.

“Mm,” Bucky confirms, letting his head tilt slightly with the weight of it. “' _Pancakes_.' I wonder who came up with the word,” Bucky murmurs idly as he watches it cook, taking note of the two stacks set to the side on two plates.

“ _The word has a **Middle English** origin_ ,” JARVIS replies helpfully from the ceiling, “ _But roots can be traced back to the **Ancient Greeks**_.”

Bucky snorts quietly, glancing up in the general direction of the ceiling as he says, “Did you cheat and find that on wiki?”

“ _I may have taken an express route_ ,” JARVIS hedges, Bucky lets out a quiet laugh as Steve grins, setting the finished pancake on the currently-in-progress stack before pouring the batter for the next one into the pan.

Bucky's stomach gives a quiet growl against Steve’s back and Steve laughs. Bucky steps back while pinching Steve's side in retaliation and Steve squawks, getting a small amount of batter on the counter with his sudden jerk. “ _Bucky!_ ”

Bucky grins lazily at him as steps to his side, reaching over for the stack of already done pancakes. Steve grabs his left hand with his own before he can quite grab one without looking. “Not yet,” Steve says.

Bucky grumbles quietly, hair a mess and eyes half closed in a tired, half-hearted glare. “Hungry.”

“ _Not yet_ ,” Steve repeats, still holding Bucky’s hand.

Bucky groans quietly, voice going a little higher in pitch on the end of it as he comes back around behind Steve, wrapping his free right arm around Steve's waist and setting his chin on Steve's left shoulder, “ _Hungryyyy_ ,” he draws out in a whine.

“ _Nope_ ,” Steve replies lightly, a smile in his voice, flipping the pancake and lacing his fingers with Bucky's with his own hand over the top. Bucky lets out another whine before tilting his face in, nibbling at the side of Steve's neck. “If you _don't_ let me have a pancake I'm going to eat _you_ instead,” Bucky threatens, voice a little quiet and still rough from sleep.

Steve laughs, taking the pancake out of the pan and setting it on top of the second stack, putting the spatula down for a moment to pour the last of the batter into the pan. “Oh yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Bucky insists, dragging his lips up the side of Steve's neck to nibble on the edge of Steve’s ear, speaking low into it with his sleep rough voice, “I'll devour _all_ of you.”

“Mm,” Steve agrees quietly, a shiver running up his spine that he knows Bucky can feel where he’s pressed against Steve’s back. He flips the pancake. “I'm pretty sure you did that last night.”

“ _I'll do it again_ ,” Bucky threatens, sliding his right hand around from the left side of Steve's waist to grip his right hip, slipping a couple fingers past the elastic edge of Steve’s sweatpants to press them into warm skin. “Pancake,” Bucky demands.

Steve laughs again quietly, flipping the pancake one more time. “I'm almost _done_ , Buck.”

“ _Pancake_ ,” Bucky insists, stomach grumbling again.

“Nope,” Steve teases. Bucky groans and drops his forehead onto Steve's left shoulder, scratching his fingernails gently against the skin on Steve's hip. “ _Steeeeeve_ ,” he whines lowly.

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve says, but Bucky can hear the smile in his voice, and he doesn't sound sorry. _At all_.

“You're the worst,” Bucky grumbles, forehead still pressed into Steve's shoulder.

“I'm making you _breakfast_ ,” Steve replies mock offended, reaching down to turn off the burner.

“The _worst_ ,” Bucky replies, head snapping up a little at the sound of Steve turning off the burner, looking over Steve’s shoulder again. “Done?”

Steve laughs, scooping out the pancake to set it on top of the pile of the others, releasing his grip on Bucky's hand after putting the spatula down to turn around and face Bucky with his back to the stove. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to Bucky's lips, Bucky leaning in to follow him slightly when Steve pulls away. “Done.”

Bucky hums a pleased sound and reaches around Steve to grab the recently finished pancake off of the top of the pile with his left hand, bringing it up to his face to take a whiff. He hums another pleased sound at the smell before taking a bite, closing his eyes for a moment as he chews then swallows.

“Good?” Steve asks. Bucky opens his eyes to see Steve watching him with a smile. Bucky grins a lazy grin at him, moving the pancake across the short distance between them to hold it up in offering.

Steve leans his head forward slightly to take a bite, eyes on Bucky's the whole time.

“Good,” Steve answers himself after chewing and swallowing. Bucky hums again in agreement before lifting the pancake above them and angling his head up to take another bite.

“ _Good_ ,” Bucky agrees. Steve laughs and it’s like snowfall.

–

Steve throws another punch and Bucky dodges left, throwing a left punch at Steve’s sternum in return with enough force to go through it. Steve dodges to his own left and kicks out at the inside of Bucky’s right knee. The snow’s falling outside the large floor to ceiling windows of the entertainment room as they spar, and if he lets himself he’ll forget he’s in the Tower at all and will think he’s back to training in Russia.

Bucky flips over him, both hands on Steve’s shoulders as he twists in mid air and spins Steve with it, landing after and throwing a punch that connects to Steve’s face as he stumbles and Steve’s head snaps back with the hit.

It’s the second week of December and they’ve started training in the apartment. JARVIS said they weren’t being watched on this floor, out of a sign of trust from Tony, but neither of them are entirely sure they believe that. They train in the entertainment room anyway out of sight of the others as a precaution, talking against each other’s skin without voices at night to go over other moves they don’t want to risk anyone else seeing. They’re not sure how the battle with Hydra is going to go, but just in case, they’re going to keep some things to themselves.

Bucky follows his punch with a second and Steve bends back at the last moment, Bucky’s right fist flying right above his chin and hitting nothing but air. Steve grabs the fist and pulls it down as he turns his torso and takes a step, pulling Bucky forward and off balance before punching him in the left side of his ribs.

Bucky grunts before twisting his arm and body out of Steve’s grip and spins down low in Steve’s space to punch him in the abdomen, knocking the breath out of Steve’s lungs with the impact before he sweeps Steve’s legs out from under him and Steve lands hard on his back on the floor.

Steve breaths a little hard as looks up and Bucky smirks back down at him, breathing also a little labored but a cocky expression on his face. “You’re getting slow, old man,” he says with a smirk.

Steve stares up at him for a moment before kicking his leg out in a quick motion and knocking Bucky to the ground, rolling up and moving in quick to straddle him and press his forearm to Bucky’s neck. “ _Now_ who’s getting slow?” Steve asks, smirking down at him in return. Bucky snorts before bringing his legs up and hooking his ankles on either side of Steve’s head under his chin, pulling Steve back and to the floor as he draws his legs down. Steve gags slightly at the hold before huffing out a breath, hands flying up to Bucky’ calves and gripping just above his ankles.

“Yield?!” Bucky calls down, and Steve can hear the smirk in his voice.

Steve gags against the hold again as he shifts his grip and starts to pull. “ _Never!_ ” he calls back up, slowly prying Bucky’s legs apart from under his chin.

Bucky grunts with the effort of keeping them closed and decides to roll them both. Steve’s forehead hits the floor but he pulls Bucky’s legs apart and quickly rolls backwards out of Bucky’s reach, coming up in a crouch and snapping his head up to watch him intently, panting with a thin sheen of sweat layering his skin.

Bucky quickly rolls up into his own crouch, left hand braced on the floor in front of him as he pants as well, eyes staring intensely back at Steve. The whir of the plates in his left arm shifting is the only sound in the tense silence save their breathing, Steve’s right leg silent in comparison.

Neither of them move a muscle, each sizing each other up and locked in a stalemate.

Finally, Steve lunges and Bucky rolls to the right to dodge, left hand coming up to grab the leg Steve quickly aims at his head with both of Steve’s hands and knee braced on the floor, trying to put more strength into the maneuver.

Bucky pulls and Steve twists with it, swinging his other leg up while putting his weight on his hands and kicking Bucky in the side of the face with his left leg. Steve moves with it as Bucky staggers and rolls over, straddling either side of Bucky’s head with his thighs and darting his hand down to grab Bucky’s forehead.

“I’ve never tried crushing a skull with my hand before,” Steve says after a few moments of the two of them breathing a little hard, smirking down at Bucky when Bucky frowns up at him.

Bucky glances down at his left hand as he brings it up, wiggling his fingers. “I bet I could,” he says, eyes braised as he looks back up at Steve.

“I know you could,” Steve replies with a small grin.

Bucky grins back before his eyes fall to Steve’s thighs and slowly move up the length of Steve’s body before finally landing back on his face. It almost feels like he’s dragging his hands up Steve instead and Steve shivers slightly with it.

Bucky smirks, tilting his head back a little with Steve’s palm still gripping the top of his forehead. “We haven’t tried _this_ position yet,” Bucky says with a lewd smirk, bouncing his eyebrows a couple of times.

Steve lets out a laugh, letting go of Bucky’s forehead to flick it with a finger instead. “Maybe later,” Steve replies. Bucky brings his hands up to slide his palms along Steve’s thighs before he reaches around and smacks his ass with his right hand. Steve laughs again, moving to un-straddle him and sit next to Bucky instead.

Bucky lays there for a moment before he pushes himself to sit up, sliding a hand through his hair as he looks over out the window, eyes glancing from the falling snow covering the city to Steve, who’s staring out at it.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, their breathing relaxing back to normal as they both watch the snow and the city, looking familiar and foreign all at once.

“‘ _Do you wanna build a snowman?_ ’” Bucky sings after another minute, a little off key.

Steve snorts and shoves at his shoulder with a hand.

“What? I’m _serious_ ,” Bucky jokes with a grin, scooting over to sit next to Steve. “Nah, but seriously, do you want to later? We haven’t in…” Bucky trails off, eyebrows pulling together in thought, “Ooh, about eighty-three years,” he says lightly.

Steve cracks a smile, looking back out the large windows. “That year we tried ice skating?”

Bucky groans, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s. “Lanie was cute and she insisted,” Bucky says defensively, “Besides! How was I supposed to know fucking frozen water was _that_ slippery! I swear she _wanted_ me to break my arm!” he says indignantly.

Steve laughs, looking back over at Bucky. “We could try again,” Steve offers, grinning when Bucky’s lips purse and his eyes narrow a little.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Bucky concedes with a slight pout. Bucky gets up after a few more moments of staring out at the snow and Steve’s eyes follow him. He holds his hand down in offering with a grin and says, “Let’s go play in the fucking snow, Rogers. I don’t want either of us to end up talking to any ‘ _pictures_ ’ on no ‘ _walls_ ’. They do enough of that shit in _Harry Potter_ ,” Bucky jokes.

Steve laughs again and takes his hand, letting Bucky pull him up to his feet.

As they’re heading for their bedroom to change, Steve clicks his tongue in the rhythm of a clock, trying to hold back a smirk while he does. Bucky shoves at his shoulder and says mock seriously, “ _None of that, Stevie_.”

\--

The secretary in the lobby smiles politely at them when they exit the elevator, albeit a little skeptically as they cross the lobby since they’re both in only long sleeved shirts, hats, glasses, and leather gloves, Steve’s brown and Bucky’s black.

They both smile politely back, pace gradually increasing the closer they get to the door, smiles slowly turning into grins. Just as they reach the sidewalk they take off at a full run down the street, nearly slipping on patches of ice and laughing like twelve year olds just released from the mundane torture of school when they manage not to fall. People turn to stare at them, but they can’t bring themselves to care.

They end up at the park where there are already children _everywhere_ , having snowball fights and buildings forts, snowmen, anything the mind of a child can come up with. Steve and Bucky both spot a large snow pile and run for it, leaping and landing in it with a large _poof_ of snow flying _everywhere_. Steve and Bucky’s heads both come up and they take one look at each other’s snow covered face and laugh.

Steve climbs out of the mound first, slipping his hat back on and adjusting his fake glasses before offering a hand down to Bucky, who lets Steve pull him back up to his feet while he fixes his own hat and his black sunglasses.

“‘ _Do you want to build a snowman?_ ’” Steve sings teasingly to him.

Bucky laughs before his expression schools into something completely serious. He looks Steve dead in the eye and says, “Damn _right_ I wanna build a snowman.” Steve laughs and Bucky points to the mound of snow they just climbed out of while ordering like a Sergeant, “Get started on the head! I’ll work on the middle.”

Steve gets to work with a grin and a slight shake of his head and Bucky just grins back, crouching down to start balling up snow.

They make a traditional snowman first, putting Steve’s fake glasses and Bucky’s black hat on it long enough to take a picture with them on each side and send it to Natasha, each with an arm around it, grinning like all of the other kids in the park.

Then they make a skull with tentacles, much to the various parents in the park’s confusion and mild horror, before they demolish it with maybe a little more viciousness and satisfaction than is entirely necessary for a snow sculpture.

\--

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Bucky says warily a week later, hand on the perimeter banister.

“Come on, Buck, it’ll be _fun_ ,” Steve tries to encourage, waiting.

“That’s _exactly_ what Lanie said before I fell and _broke my damn arm_ ,” Bucky replies with a frown, staring down at the ice.

Steve huffs a laugh before grinning at him. “Well, at least you can really only break _one_ of your arms now,” Steve says jokingly.

Bucky shoves him hard with his left hand and Steve lets out a squawk as he almost loses his balance on the ice, arms pinwheeling for a moment and scarf ends flying with the motions before he grabs a hold of the ice rink’s perimeter banister and steadies himself.

He shoots Bucky a half-hearted glare and Bucky just laughs, looking back down at the ice after he’s settled down, shooting it a look. “ _You make me fall_ and I will _crack the whole damn thing_ ,” Bucky threatens it, taking a steadying breath before tightening his grip on the banister and taking a careful step out onto the ice.

He slides a bit with the first step but manages to keep his balance and get fully onto it with both skates, letting out a slow, relieved breath when he doesn’t slip and fall. Bucky turns to see Steve grinning at him, bright and _happy_.

Bucky’s own lips twitch up in a smile in return before it widens into a grin. “Take _that_ Lacie Warner,” Bucky says triumphantly, and Steve laughs before they both turn and start their first lap around the rink.

Bucky falls three times, twice on his left arm. Steve laughs at him, so Bucky drags him down with him on the third.

\--

Steve wakes up warm and slow a few days later but keeps his eyes closed, buried up to his nose in the sheets with the smell of Bucky and himself filling his nose. It’s comforting and _comfortable_ , and he finds he doesn’t want to move where he’s nestled between Bucky’s right arm and side, so instead he listens to the soft sounds of Bucky snoring not too far above his head, and presses his face the inch forward needed to touch his nose to the side of Bucky’s chest, wild hair just under Bucky’s sprawled out arm.

Bucky shifts slightly and mumbles something Steve doesn’t think is any language either of them knows, and shifts his right arm down to the back of Steve’s shoulders, still asleep. Steve smiles a little to himself and lets his thoughts drift, avoiding anything of Hydra or the Avengers or Zola, and just focuses on the content, warm feeling in his chest and the old, familiar heartbeat in the ribcage just above his head. He tries not to think about how these quiet days may quickly be coming to an end.

\--

“So, how’s things?” Sam asks from his side of the booth at the start of the fourth week of December, opposite where Steve and Bucky are leaning into each other slightly on their side of the table. Any and all Hydra activity that they’ve been managing to monitor has been suspiciously quiet as of two days ago, so there’s not much for them to do until they all meet the day of Christmas Eve.

“You just saw us the other day,” Steve says with a teasing smile, hot chocolate warm in the container held between his hands. Bucky snorts, bringing his own hot chocolate up with his glove covered left hand to take a sip, right arm resting along the back of the booth behind Steve, the Pumpkin Bread both Sam and Steve convinced him to try just recently demolished and the wrapper sitting on the table.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t ask,” Sam replies with his own smile, taking a sip of his coffee before raising his eyebrows as he continues jokingly, “A lot can happen in a day.”

“I beat bird brain at Donkey Kong this morning and then he and I fucked,” Bucky replies casually, tilting his head towards Steve before he takes another drink of his hot chocolate.

Sam almost chokes on his next sip of coffee and they get a few looks from the other nearby patrons of the shop, looking up from their laptops or where they wait in line for their drinks at the festively decorated counter.

Steve nudges Bucky in the ribs with his elbow and a look of his own before he looks at Sam a little apologetically. “We didn’t,” Steve tries to amend, shooting Bucky another look, who only feigns a pout before grinning unrepentantly. Steve shakes his head slightly, lips twitching up. “We went to the roof for a swim and then watched movies all night. _Snuggled up on the couch_ ,” Steve adds while looking back at Bucky with a smirk.

Bucky’s expression goes blank and he glances at Steve out of the corner of his eye, eyes narrowing slightly for a moment. “Maybe,” Bucky hedges.

“Not ‘ _maybe_ ’,” Steve replies, leaning towards Bucky a little before looking back at Sam, “He tucked my head under his chin, kissed the top of it, and _everything_. It was sweet. You’re so cuddly. Who knew,” Steve finishes with a teasing sly grin at Bucky.

Bucky scoffs but his cheeks having a light dusting of pink on them and Steve’s grin goes happy.

Sam looks between them with a smile of his own before laughing a little, shaking his head slightly, muttering something about ‘ _super soldier snuggles_.’

They talk for a bit about nothing in particular. Sam brings up Christmas plans, “Hydra be _damned_ ,” and New Year’s. Steve and Bucky keep their replies vague because neither are sure what’s going to happen during the battle, but Bucky presses his leg along Steve’s under the table and shifts his right arm to rest his warm palm on the back of Steve’s neck above his scarf, and Steve gives him a warm smile in return.

Sam’s in the middle of telling Steve about the ‘really cute secretary’ that works at the VA when Bucky lightly nudges Steve’s left leg twice in quick succession with his own. Steve glances at him out of the corner of his eye before following his line of sight when Bucky nods his head fractionally towards the large window to their right. Steve’s eyes quickly scan the street and the corner of the building diagonal from the window when he spots them.

Bucky takes his empty drink container and wrapper from the bread with him as he slides out of the booth in the middle of Sam’s break in talking for a sip of coffee, whose eyes quickly go to them when Steve starts sliding out as well. He takes one look at both of their faces as Steve stands up and his expression goes a little pinched. “Am I calling Nat?” he asks quietly.

“Yup,” Bucky replies, feigned lightly, clapping San twice on the shoulder as he heads for the shop door. Steve manages a slightly apologetic smile down at him.

“Am I going to need to tell her to bring body bags?” Sam asks next, voice still quiet as he looks up at Steve in all seriousness.

Steve just shrugs slightly. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly, “Tell her ‘four’,” he adds, apologetic smile back on his face, “Sorry to drink and run.” Steve moves to follow Bucky and sees Sam already pulling his phone out of his pocket as he goes. He tosses his empty drink container into the trash by the door before he pushes the door open and steps out onto the sidewalk outside.

Bucky’s waiting a few feet to the right just outside of it, eyes still on the Hydra agents who are conversing casually next to the building across the street, paired off into two’s with ten feet of space between each them.

“We really need to stop running into them like this,” Steve says, slipping his hands into his pockets, “This is the second time they’ve interrupted my drink with Sam.”

Bucky hums in agreement, eyes darting between the two pairs. “I don’t like it,” he says quietly, “They look like they’re waiting, which suggests a plan.”

And Bucky’s right. They’re not doing anything more than appearing casual across the street, but it’s too much of a coincidence for them to be across the _exact_ coffee shop that Steve frequents with Sam and occasionally Bucky to _be_ a coincidence. The fact that they’re the last four from Rumlow’s old team doesn’t make it any less suspicious.

“Which means we probably just walked right into it,” Steve replies, just as quiet.

“Most likely,” Bucky says, eyes darting to Steve’s, “But it’s either go back or go forward. We can’t live in the middle right now.”

Steve looks back at him before returning his eyes to the Hydra agents. He manages to keep himself from tensing when he sees all of them looking straight _at_ him and Bucky.

The agents all shift almost at the same time, going from casual to tense as they all step to the edge of that sidewalk’s curb.

“Show time,” Bucky says quietly, shooting Steve a small grin before they both walk to the edge of the curb of their own side of the street.

What they’re not expecting is for two of the agents to pull out piece-together grenade launchers from somewhere under their jackets and fire at them from across the street. The grenades hit the cars parked along the curb directly in front of them and Steve and Bucky both dive out of the way as the cars flip onto the sidewalk and into the side of the coffee shop windows, people screaming and glass shattering everywhere as fire and smoke swarm up the side of the building from the wreckage with the smoke fogging up the sidewalk and out into the street, making it hard to see.

Steve has about a second to worry about Sam when his ears pick up the sound of something smaller, tighter firing at a closer range, and then Bucky’s shout is filling his ears and Steve has to force himself not to react the way he wants to. Instead of running over to where he heard Bucky shout, Steve picks himself up off of the snow cleared sidewalk and slips in a front of the nearest car still parked against the side of the curb as quietly as he can, crouching down low as he listens, mind only registering the running and screaming civilians in the area as background noise.

“Not as tough without your arm, are you,” one of the male agents says, and Steve hears a grunt a second later from the same man before the sound of metal hitting metal, quickly followed by the familiar sound of an electric current. Bucky doesn’t make a sound, but as soon as the current stops he spits out a curse word in Russian. Steve keeps himself still, foggy smoke still wafting down the street from the explosions.

“Yeah, Rumlow told us about ‘ _the chair_ ’. Thought you might miss the electricity,” that same agent says, voice a little rougher now, and then Steve hears the sound of electricity again. It must be that rod the two agents tried using on him in the alley a while ago.

“Where’s the other one,” the same agent demands.

“Rocker and Wills are looking,” a second male agent replies.

“Well they need to hurry up. It’s not like he could have gone _far_ -”

Steve shifts his focus to the sound of bootsteps coming up on either side of the car, the ones on the left lighter than the ones on his right.

Steve silently shifts closer to the right, waiting, waiting…

He darts out quickly in the smoke as soon as the steps are nearly at the right front tire and grabs the gun that gets aimed at him with his left hand, forcing it to the side just before it goes off and bringing his right hand up to slam his palm straight up into the man’s nose, forcing the bone of his nasal cavity up into his brain.

The grip on the gun is loosened as the man drops and Steve flips it in his grip as he spins, ducking behind the side of the car just as the other agent fires her gun at him, taking a step back before firing his own. The bullet goes through both the passenger and driver’s side windows before hitting the woman in the abdomen and she falls.

They’re both down in a matter of seconds and Steve quickly spins again, aiming the gun at the last two agents standing on the sidewalk near the crosswalk three car spaces away, the smoke cleared enough for him to see.

One’s got Bucky on his knees in front of him, Bucky’s hat and sunglasses gone and his hand fisted in Bucky’s hair, gun aimed up under his jaw. Bucky can’t seem to use his left arm and the shocks seem to have been a jolt on _every_ system.

The other agent has his gun aimed at Steve.

Three car spaces isn’t a lot of distance, but even with his reflexes it’s still too much of a gamble with Bucky’s life.

“So, _Captain_ ,” the man behind Bucky starts, smirking past the blood trailing down from his nose where Bucky must’ve hit him when he got too close, “From what I understand, you two can talk like normal people now. And from what I also understand, you two grew up together. That even after all that shit that was done to your brains you still _cared_ about what _happened_ to each other.” He presses the gun up a little further into Bucky’s jaw, Bucky’s head angling back a little more with the push. Bucky’s eyes are on Steve. “ _How sweet_ ," the man says mockingly, "So don’t try anything, or he’s getting a bullet in the brain.”

Steve keeps his expression blank, looking between the three of them and around them all at the street briefly before his eyes settle back on the man behind Bucky. The smoke’s cleared enough that they can all see each other, but if it clears too much they’re going to have a real problem. Steve keeps his gun aimed.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so I’m just going to say this once. You’re both coming with us, or you’re dying like the dogs you are in this street,” the man continues, eyes on Steve.

The other agent shifts at that just slightly and it’s enough for Steve. Steve tilts his head a little, expression bland. “Are you sure that’s why you’re here,” Steve says casually. The man behind Bucky stiffens slightly at that and his expression goes a little more tense. “I mean, I _did_ kill Rumlow,” Steve continues, left hand loose at his side and shifting back a couple centimeters.

The other agent shifts again and Steve can tell he’s hit a nerve, would have been able to tell even if the one behind Bucky didn’t say, “ _Shut up_.” Steve shifts his left hand back a couple more centimeters.

Admiration. Loyalty. _Love_. Any form of sentimentality. All tools that can be used against you. That’s one of the reasons why the Red Room didn’t _like_ The Soldier and The Winter Soldier’s attachments to each other, they could be used against one another like the perfect weakness. Get a hold of one and you have both, lose one and you lose both. The best weapons the Red Room ever made and they were the easiest to keep, but they were also the easiest to _lose_. Steve might be able to understand what he feels now, but that won’t stop him from using those same emotions in others against _them_. Not when it comes to Bucky. He’s not sure he wouldn’t become the worst thing imaginable just for Bucky.

“I nearly cut off his arm with a knife,” Steve continues conversationally, moving his hand back another few centimeters under the guise of shifting his stance just slightly. The other agent not behind Bucky compensates for the minimal movement. “Hit the bone with an electrical charge. He screamed like he should’ve been back in basic training.”

“Shut up!” the man yells, twisting his fist tighter in Bucky’s hair, probably trying to get Bucky to _whimper like a dog_. But they’ve both been trained far better than that and Bucky still doesn’t make a sound, just keeps his eyes focused on Steve.

“Come, or this _thing_ dies,” The man continues, jerking Bucky’s head back a little further, “Then Hydra can take that ability to speak with that mouth _right back out of you_ ,” he finishes, sounding like that would just _make his day_. Steve’s sure it would.

His eyes drop down to Bucky’s after a moment of feigned internal debating and Bucky stares right back, his own eyes narrowing slightly twice in quick succession after a few moments. The parallels of this situation and the one in Russia aren’t lost on Steve.

There’s people listening to them now, watching through the clearing smoke. He can’t hear anyone in the coffee shop to his left, but he can hear murmurs about a block away and sirens faint in the distance, getting closer. Camera phones. They don’t have much time.

Steve raises his eyes back to the man behind Bucky, purposefully doesn’t look at the other one with his gun still trained on Steve. “No, thank you,” Steve replies casually, and the man behind Bucky stiffens, “That ‘ _thing_ ’ happens to like my mouth just the way it is.”

Steve moves suddenly, firing a bullet into the man behind Bucky’s, hitting him right between the eyes as Steve dodges the few shots the other agent manages to fire at him before Steve’s left hand closes the distance to the back of his jeans and he pulls his knife out, throwing it quickly with enough force to bury itself up to the hilt in the man’s forehead.

There’s more screams from the people watching as they both fall and Steve runs over as Bucky sags in on himself, ignoring them, dropping to his knees in front of Bucky. “Buck,” Steve says, voice quiet but urgent as he takes Bucky’s face in both of his hands and tilts his head up so Steve can look him in the eyes.

Bucky lets out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, blinking up tiredly at Steve. “Hey, Stevie,” Bucky says quietly, “I really don’t miss getting the shit shocked outta me.” Bucky manages an exhausted grin and Steve huffs out a breath, leaning in to press his lips to Bucky’s forehead.

“Buck,” he starts, pulling back a little, “Shut up. You’re not funny.”

“ _Yes, I am_ ,” Bucky almost slurs, eyes slipping closed, “You think I’m the funni _est_ …” he trails off, sagging further forward and Steve drops his hands from Bucky’s face to wrap one arm around his middle and the other around the back of his shoulders, letting Bucky lean on Steve.

When he looks over his shoulder, he can just see the sirens coming towards them from the end of the long street and people slowly coming out from where they’ve been watching the whole thing. His eyes dart around the area looking for a quick exit, feeling exposed, and he’s about to lift Bucky and take him into the nearest alley when a black car comes skidding around the corner in front of him, skidding to a stop next to the gap to Steve’s right where the two blown up cars had been parked against the curb.

The passenger door is pushed open from the inside and it’s-

Natasha.

“Get in fossils,” She calls over to him, and Steve blinks, “We have a museum to get you both back to.”

Natasha smirks and Steve cracks the smallest smile before he shifts into a crouch, shifting his grip on Bucky to get his arms around Bucky’s back and under his legs so he can lift him up, quickly carrying him over to the car.

“Geeze you’re heavy, Bucky,” Steve grumbles, slipping into the black Corvette’s passenger seat with Bucky in his lap and pulling the door closed after them, and then they’re speeding off, right past the string of ambulances, police cars, and two fire trucks.

Natasha glances over at them, eyes quickly scanning over Bucky before going back to the road.

Steve doesn’t say thank you, he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, so instead he says, “I’m glad you’re here.” And means it.

Natasha smiles something small and keeps her eyes on the road as they head back to the Tower, Bucky passed out in Steve’s arms.


	21. I'll make you famous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not even kidding the CATWS Captain America theme was playing while I was looking over Gina's beta comments and _I am a wreck_.
> 
> P.S. SORRY GUYS SOMETHING GOT SCREWY SO REPOST. And I have to put all that italics back in weeps.
> 
> Mission control. I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.

“ _Tony_ ,” a hologram of Pepper’s face materializes up above Bucky’s medical bed an hour after Natasha has dropped them off in the parking garage and Steve has carried Bucky up to the med lab. Her expression is worried.

Tony doesn’t put his tools down but does pause where he’s sitting next to the bed on Bucky’s left and fixing his arm, eyes darting up to the screen. “What is it?” he asks, eyebrows pulling together.

“ _General Ross and his men are here_ ,” Pepper says, voice hushed but urgent. She glances over her shoulder and Tony and Steve’s eyes follow. There’s men in military dress talking to the lobby secretary just around the corner Pepper’s hidden behind. “ _He says it’s under the order of Senator Stern. I think they’re here for Steve and Bucky._ ”

Tony and Steve both glance over to the three other holograms Tony brought up the moment he came into the room. They’re hovering in a half circle above the end of the medical bed Bucky’s asleep in, all replaying the same street surveillance and shaky phone camera footage of the battle from earlier, and of a black Corvette speeding away with Steve and Bucky inside.

The news reporters are all saying the same thing with very little variance:

“ _Who is this mystery man who killed these three unidentified men and one woman in the streets of New York?_ ”

“ _Where did these four come from and why did they blow up two cars and the side of this coffee shop?_ ”

“ _All six seem highly trained, but the government has made no claim to have trained them or comment on who they might be._ ”

Steve and Tony look back to each other and lock eyes before Tony looks back at the hologram call with Pepper. “Stern’s up to no good, I’m sure. Stall as long as you can before bringing them up to the communal room. Ten minutes would be perfect, five if he’s unreasonably pushy, which, knowing Ross, he will be,” Tony says with a small grimace. Pepper nods before the call cuts off and the hologram dematerializes. Tony goes back to trying to fix Bucky’s arm.

“Stern is Hydra?” Steve asks, sitting in the chair he’d pulled up to the right side of the bed, left hand still holding Bucky’s right.

Tony doesn’t look up, just keeps working as he replies, “Maybe. He does like trying to take away people’s expensive, dangerous toys.” Tony’s eyebrows raise up on the end of his sentence and Steve’s eyes glance down towards Bucky. “And I don’t know about _Ross_ , but he’s been after Banner and The Hulk for _years_ ,” Tony continues, “and _The Hulk’s_ strength came from trying to recreate the serum that was used on both of _you_.” Tony frowns down at the circuitry in Bucky’s arm, panels slid out of the way. “So even if Ross isn’t Hydra, he’ll be damn interested in the two of you anyway,” Tony says, glancing up at Steve briefly before looking back down at the arm.

Steve’s silent for a few moments, listening to the sound of Tony working and thinking over what Tony’s said before he finally asks, “What are you going to do?”

Tony glances up at him again before he looks back down at Bucky’s arm, tweaking something and sliding one of the panels back in place. “Find out exactly _what_ he wants. _And_ how they managed to find out you two were here,” Tony replies, sitting up a little, “Though if I had to guess, it was probably by tracking that car through the city’s surveillance.”

Steve watches him for a moment before looking back down at Bucky, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Bucky’s still asleep, but his fingers tighten around Steve’s hand a little in return.

\--

“General Ross,” Tony greets, after exiting the elevator and passing Pepper in the short hall to step out into the communal room. She’d sent him a look that was both a little worried and a little terrifying, like she was ready to strangle the General herself. Tony can’t really blame her, he knows the feeling. General Ross has that effect on people. He’s just glad Bruce isn’t in the building right now and that he managed to get Bucky’s arm completely repaired before he had to come up. Her name should really be: Pepper “I-can-do-anything” Potts.

Ross looks as cross and stiff as usual, and the five men he has with him don’t seem to be faring much better. “And posse. Five men? Really? A little excessive don’t you think,” Tony jokes.

“Stark,” Ross says, drawing it out a little like he always does.

“Coffee?” Tony asks, heading for the kitchen to stall, “Scotch? Both? I can arrange both.”

“Cut the bull, Stark, you know why we’re here,” Ross says. Tony stops at the edge of the kitchen and smoothly redirects his course to the side of the counter, leaning back against it and crossing his arms casually over his chest.

“That thing on tv? Because that wasn’t me,” Tony replies, smirking as he continues, “If it _were_ me, I’m pretty sure there’d be a lot more gold and red and a _lot_ more cheering. Not to mention better looks.” Tony cocks his head up a bit and grins at Ross, who doesn’t budge.

“We want them,” Ross says, crossing his own stiff arms over his chest and cutting to the chase. His men are in formation behind him. That can’t be good.

“Want who?” Tony asks, eyebrows pulling together in confusion, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

Ross doesn’t reply and Tony doesn’t say anything more.

They stare each other down for Tony doesn’t know how long, Tony’s expression revealing nothing and Ross’ growing increasingly frustrated. “We traced that black Corvette to this location via street surveillance,” Ross finally starts, and Tony would congratulate himself for already having figured that out if he were in the mood. “ _Whoever_ was driving didn’t manage to avoid all of the cameras, though they did give it a good try. We _know_ they’re here. Men!” Ross barks out, and the five men behind him stand at attention, “Search the premises. Find them.”

“What? _You can’t-_ ” Tony starts, but Ross cuts him off with a raised hand, pulling a folded few sheets of paper out of his military jacket and handing them over to Tony, who grabs them and opens them up to let his eyes quickly scan over the pages as the five men start moving past them.

“Senator Stern got us a permit to search the building for them both,” Ross says easily, “And I hear the president is quite curious. We’re not sure who the other one is, but he _definitely_ wants to meet the one who bares a _striking resemblance_ to one _Sergeant James Barnes_ , reported MIA in _1944_.”

Tony’s jaw tightens as he looks back up at the General. The papers are air tight, there’s nothing he can do about anything written on it, but maybe-

“JARVIS,” Tony says.

“ _Sir?_ ” JARVIS asks.

“Call Pepper, and please have her come up to this floor as soon as possible,” Tony instructs.

“ _Yes, Sir_.”

Ross smirks and Tony’s eyes dart from his face to the five men, watching frustratingly helpless as they head down the hall to the elevator. He’s just looked back at Ross when he hears someone stumble and his head snaps back around to the hall, surprised to see all five of Ross’ men quickly backing up back into the communal room, faces white as sheets.

And Steve walking straight towards them, tall and commanding their attention without even uttering a word, as ever. He still moves silent, even in boots.

Tony hears Ross suck in a surprised breath and looks back around to see that his eyes are just as wide as his men’s, and they all stare at Steve as he comes to a silent stop a few feet away from Tony and directly in front of the hall, tall and immovable as a mountain. Steve’s subtly blocking and barring it from access, unless they want to try and go through _him_. And Tony’s betting they _really_ don’t want to.

Steve glances at Tony for a moment and Tony throws him an incredulous, questioning look that Steve only tilts his head at slightly before returning his attention to Ross and the others. Tony’s not sure what Steve’s doing and this is probably a bad idea, but he’s out of options so he stays quiet for a change.

“ _Ca-Captain_ -” Ross stutters, and Tony doesn’t try too hard to suppress his sudden urge to grin. He’s been around Steve so long that the shock of it all has long since, mostly, worn off.

“General,” Steve replies before Ross can get out the rest, voice and face both equally calm.

They’re all silent for a few moments before Steve continues, “Was there something here that you needed.”

Ross blinks a couple of times before straightening up, drawing the attention of his men, who all straighten up as well. “We’re here for your _Howling Commando_ look-alike. And you,” Ross adds, face hardening, “The mystery of why you’re still alive and still looking as you did _back then_ , _or_ if you’re a clone of some sort will be sorted out once you’re both in custody.”

Tony stiffens though Steve doesn’t, just remains mostly impassive as he looks back at the General. Tony can’t let them take Steve or Bucky. He’s not sure who’s Hydra and who isn’t within their own government, none of them are, but if he had to guess he wouldn’t rule out Stern. And even if he _isn’t_ Hydra, he’s still a dick and Tony will take any opportunity to screw him over that he can. And besides, Steve and Bucky are his _friends_. He won’t let them be taken away, especially not by Ross of all people, who’s always been after Erskin’s serum. He’s _already_ starting to look at Steve like he’s a gold mine.

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” Tony says, interrupting the tense silence, like he’s best at, and drawing everyone’s eyes to him, “Can you imagine the front pages? There’d be an uproar.”

“We’ll take them both in quietly to get things sorted out,” Ross replies easily, eyes going back to Steve with a small, smug smile, and Steve’s eyes to his, “Either way, _you’re **both**_ coming with us.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, General,” Steve replies calmly. Ross’ eyes narrow fractionally and Steve smiles a little, politely, “I’m afraid I’m needed here for the time being, and my friend is not up to moving around. Your request cannot be met.”

“It _wasn’t_ a _request_ ,” Ross replies curtly.

“Still, it’s not possible,” Steve replies calmly.

Ross straightens up a little further and squares his shoulders, trying to make himself larger as he stares back at Steve with hard eyes. “You’ve been ordered by the _U.S. Government_ to be brought in by order of _Senator Stern_ , and to the interest of the President of the United States,” Ross starts, narrowing his eyes again, “Are you saying that you’re _going against_ a direct order from the _United States, Captain?_ ” Ross says a little haughtily, “If you _are_ who we all _think_ you are, then you’re still a soldier, and this is an _order_ from _your government_ , and higher ranked, _commanding_ officer.”

Steve’s eyes go from bland to cold and hard in less than a heartbeat at that last bit and he straightens up, squaring his own shoulders. Tony swears the temperature in the room drops at least twenty degrees solely from the look in Steve’s eyes. The men under Ross’ command all shift like they can feel it too.

“General, ‘ _if I am who you think I am_ ’, then you _know_ I serve _no_ government,” Steve replies coolly, but still calm.

Ross’ eyes widen slightly before narrowing again. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, _Captain_ ,” he replies, and Tony can hear the annoyance in his voice loud and clear.

Steve stares him down. “Then your history must be rusty, General,” Steve starts, and Ross’ fists clench slightly where they are at his sides, “I, _Captain America_ , fought in the Second World War with America, yes, because my ideologies aligned with theirs at the time: to stop oppression, to stop bullies pushing the world around, and to save lives. But, if you’ll also recall, my need to join in the fight was not _enlisted_ from me because the government wouldn’t have me. With help, I _forced_ my way in. And, if you recall, my first mission was one not given by _any government’s_ order, but my own, and it was to save the rest of the captured 107th from a Hydra facility in Austria. The same 107th made up of men from _all over_. And that after, those men joined me to form the _Howling Commandos_. We took the Hydra facilities down one by one and fought in the war with all we had, because at the time it was the right thing to do. I took orders from no one but myself. _I_ gave the orders.”

Everyone listens quietly, and Tony’s staring at Steve a little in awe, not just because Steve’s speaking more than he’s ever heard him say all at once, but because it’s not just _Steve_ speaking, but also _Captain America_. This is one of the few times he’s ever seen Steve like this. Like he was in 1944, the last time _anyone_ saw _Captain America_. They’re all seeing history living in the flesh, and this is one of the few times that Tony actually feels like that’s happening. Seeing Steve be _Steve_ or _The Soldier_ is one thing, seeing him be Captain America, something in their _history books_ , is another.

Ross is tense and silent, but when Tony looks his men seem awestruck, too, and Tony will take that as a good sign. Hydra? Maybe. Moved? _Definitely_.

“I fought with men from France, immigrants, people born and raised _in_ the United States _and outside of it_. And, most of all, I, _we_ , fought for _people_ ,” Steve continues, eyes intense on Ross, “We did not fight for the _government_ , _I_ did not fight for _any_ government. I fought for the people oppressed all around the world, I did what I could to end the war as fast as possible and stop the cause of the oppression, to stop the bullies, to stop the losing of lives. I fought for the men in my unit, for the memories of long lost family, and for _myself_. I fought for the ideals that I thought the _United States Government_ \- the _world_ \- could uphold, and I’ve come to find that both of those things have slid further back than they ever were. I find the world has changed into something I did not, and would not, die for.”

The men behind Ross have wide eyes, staring speechlessly, and Tony has no words either. His dad spoke of Captain America, but he never really spoke about any of _this_. Tony’s having trouble processing adding new information to decades old, _personal_ information.

“So yes,” Steve continues, shoulders and expression relaxing fractionally but eyes remaining hard and, for once, burning hot instead of cold, “I _am_ defying an order, because I take _no orders_ from the Government, and because the _Government_ is not what determines a country, but its people. And I will _never yield_ to a bully.”

Tony’s eyes quickly dart back to Ross, whose face is red and hands are bunched into tight fists at his sides. Tony’s almost expecting him to turn into the same Hulk he’s always been trying to catch, but instead Ross yells, “Men! _Arrest him!_ ”

The five men under his command snap to attention, but none of them move, eyes darting between Ross and Steve with uncertainty.

Ross’ head snaps around to them when they don’t immediately move to comply, “ _Well?!_ ”

A couple of the men take a hesitant step towards Steve but stop after Steve looks at them. He doesn’t grimace, or growl, or glare, just... _looks_. And they don’t move an inch further. Tony doesn’t blame them, they're looking at history in living technicolor and sound.

After a few moments of Ross’ men shifting uncertainly and Ross himself glaring at both them _and_ Steve, nothing getting done, Steve starts to turn to go.

Ross quickly closes the distance and grabs Steve’s arm to halt his movement, and Steve freezes, along with the rest of the room. Tony, mostly because he knows that’s _never_ a good idea, and the other men, because they seem to have picked up on that too at some point, even if they don’t know the _why_.

Predators, Tony knows and has experienced, be them man or beast radiate something that usually sends a prickle up someone’s spine, a warning or caution. Tony won’t lie and say he’s never felt it around Steve and Bucky. Hell, he even gets it from Barton and _Barton’s_ usually stuffing his mouth full of something or yelling at the video games he plays with Bucky, more often than not it’s both. But Tony knows how much more _dangerous_ Steve and Bucky are in comparison. Add their ‘ _legend_ ’ on top of that and how much they’ve been through? Tony will just say he’s glad they’re friends instead of enemies.

“Let go, General,” Steve says, so terrifyingly calm it reminds Tony of Bruce. Steve’s eyes stare straight ahead, not looking at anyone, “Or I will _remove_ your _entire arm_.”

Steve finally turns his head a little to look at Ross and that chill shoots straight up Tony’s spine. He hasn’t seen the frozen eyes of _The Soldier_ in a while.

General Ross slowly, wisely releases Steve’s arm and Steve finishes turning, walking calmly to the hall as they all watch him go. Pepper’s stepped out of the elevator and passes him on his way to it, and Tony hears him say politely, “Pepper, if you’ll please escort General Ross and his men out.”

“Uh...Sure, Steve,” Tony hears Pepper reply, and then Steve’s stepped in the elevator and gone.

Pepper comes out of the hall and fully into the room, head turned slightly and eyes over her shoulder before she looks at everyone else. She straightens up a little and her expression is the perfect blend of blandly polite and not-taking-no-for-an-answer. She runs Stark Industries with that look, along with her secretly-a-dagger-you-didn’t-realize-was-coming smile, and she’s terrifyingly efficient with both.

“General,” she starts, raising a hand to indicate the other elevator around the corner of the other hall at the opposite end of the room, “If you’ll please follow me.” She passes Tony with a slightly questioning look and Tony raises his eyebrows in response. He’ll explain later.

Ross’ men look at the General for a moment before hesitantly turning to follow Pepper. Ross himself growls and points an index finger at Tony. “ _This isn’t over_ ,” he threatens lowly, turning to follow Pepper and his men out of the room.

Tony lets out a breath as soon as the hall on the other side of the room is clear and sags slightly against the side of the counter still behind him. “JARVIS,” he says after a few moments.

“ _Yes, Sir?_ ”

“Get me everything you can on Senator Stern. And cross check any surveillance on him alone and in any meetings, conversations, run-ins- _any_ interaction with _anyone_ with the pin Bucky and Natasha brought back from Budapest,” Tony orders.

“ _Right away, Sir_.”

Tony sighs, pushing himself up off of the edge of the counter and heading for the coffee machine. “I don’t know about Ross, but _I_ could certainly use a coffee and scotch. I bet he could too after that,” Tony says lightly. He’s pretty sure he almost just had a massacre take place five feet in front of him. He could _definitely_ use a drink.

\--

When Steve gets back to the med lab, Bucky’s eyes are open and he’s sitting up against the back of the bed with a hologram in front of him, eyes on Steve through the glass doors before it’s even done dematerializing.

Steve pulls the door closed behind him after he steps in and walks over to the bed, sitting back down in the chair on Bucky’s right.

Neither says anything, Steve staring at the sheets on Bucky’s bed and Bucky staring at him for a few moments before tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. He probably saw the whole thing, and if not the whole thing then enough.

“It’s started then,” Bucky says quietly.

Steve lets out a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose briefly. “Yeah,” Steve says just as quiet, “Senator Stern sent General Ross here to pick us up. They know you look like James Barnes and my going up there probably just solidified the fact, but I couldn’t just sit here and let them come down.” Steve drops his hand into his lap.

“Trying to protect me?” Bucky asks with a small smirk, and Steve glances over to him, “How sweet, Rogers.”

Steve frowns a little and looks back at the sheets, saying quietly, “You literally had a gun to your head an hour ago,” Steve feels Bucky’s eyes drop to him but he doesn’t look. “And if you hadn’t trained me to _shoot_ so damn well the odds would’ve been higher that I would have _lost_ you. Damn it, Bucky, I’m not in the mood to _joke!_ ” Steve’s voice rises towards the end of it and he sucks in a breath, teeth gritting in frustration, anger. Worry.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly after a few moments, shifting down the bed so he’s sitting with his legs dangling over the side of it right in front of Steve. Steve’s eyes dart to the side, not wanting to look at him, _afraid_ to look at him. “Hey, look at me,” Bucky says more insistently, reaching forward to take Steve’s face in both of his hands and gently guide it up.

Steve finally drags his eyes up to Bucky’s when Bucky rubs his metal thumb across Steve’s cheek, and Bucky looks back down at him, expression serious. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he says quietly.

Steve lets out a breath and looks down for a moment, but his eyes always find Bucky and he looks back up. “ _Not yet_ ,” he says solemnly, and Bucky stares back down at him, “You’re not allowed to _die_ yet, and not by anyone’s hand but _mine_.”

Bucky continues to stare at him before adding, “Or Natasha’s.”

“That’s _different_ ,” Steve replies quickly, shaking his head slightly before scooting to the edge of his chair between Bucky’s legs, hands coming up to grab Bucky’s sides tightly. “ _Me_ , Buck. As long as we know who we are. _ **Only**_ me.”

Bucky looks at him for a few moments before saying quietly, “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Steve’s face crumples a little, because he was scared, _is_ scared, and he grips Bucky’s sides a little tighter.

He knows he’s being unreasonable. He knows just because he wants things a certain way doesn’t mean that they’ll always _be_ that way. But he can’t help it. He’s always been selfish with Bucky, even though he’d tried _not_ to be.

Bucky leans down and presses his forehead to Steve’s, Steve leaning a little up into it and letting go of Bucky’s sides to wrap his arms around Bucky’s waist instead.

After a few minutes Bucky asks, “Did you scare’em good?” with a small grin.

Steve huffs a breath and leans back slightly, but not far, just enough to comfortably look Bucky in the eyes. “They looked like they saw a ghost. Ross’ men wouldn’t even take orders from him,” Steve replies.

Bucky grins a little wider. “That’s my scary, unbendable Stevie,” he says, sliding a hand up to ruffle Steve’s hair.

Steve ducks his head away before leaning back in closer, expression going serious. “I didn’t like having to do it, and seeing them look at me like that…” Steve trails off, and Bucky’s expression sobers a little, “I don’t miss it, Buck. And when I threatened to tear Ross’ arm off when he grabbed mine...Tony looked at me like I was a stranger,” Steve finishes quietly.

Bucky looks down at him for a few moments before ruffling Steve’s hair a little again, and Steve ducks his head out of the way a second time before frowning up at him.

Bucky sits up, leaning back a bit on the bed with a hand, smiling down a little bitterly at Steve. “They don’t understand,” he says, and Steve sits up a little straighter, “If they did…?” Bucky trails off, not finishing it because the room is monitored.

Steve’s jaw tenses and he looks off to the side, quiet for a few moments before he finally says, “So it’s a lie.”

“No, it’s not a lie,” Bucky quickly returns, leaning forward a little to grab a few strands of Steve’s hair, pulling on it gently to get his attention. Steve’s eyes go back to his. “It’s not a lie,” Bucky repeats, smiling a little less bitterly now, “It’s real. All of it. It’s just...a little more complicated than what’s on the surface.” Bucky shrugs a little, wincing slightly when the motion shifts his left shoulder too much.

Steve narrows his eyes a little and stands up, and Bucky’s already groaning before Steve even puts his left hand on Bucky’s right shoulder and nudges him back to lie down. “Rest,” Steve orders.

“M’not a kid, _Steve_ ,” Bucky retorts, but complies, lying back down and letting Steve rearrange the sheets so they’re pulled up to Bucky’s chest, “I can take care of _myself_.”

“But you like it better when I do it,” Steve replies with a little, teasing smirk, and Bucky snorts before scooting over to the far edge of the bed and rolling onto his right side.

“ _Yeah, yeah_ , Rogers,” Bucky replies with a smile in his voice, “Now get your ass up here and show me some bedside manner.”

Steve laughs quietly but climbs up onto the bed, fitting himself to Bucky’s back and wrapping his left arm around Bucky’s waist. He presses a kiss to the back of Bucky’s neck and Bucky lets out a quiet sigh. “Go to sleep, Buck. We meet with the others in a couple days and General Ross will probably be back around the same time,” Steve says quietly against the back of Bucky’s hair.

Bucky huffs out a breath, twining his metal fingers with Steve’s. “He’s not gonna get what he wants,” Bucky replies, yawning quietly before he continues a little quieter, “We’ve _both_ already _died_. Shouldn’t even _be_ in the _system_. And I _hate_ caterin’ ta’ assholes.”

Steve laughs again quietly and presses his forehead to the back of Bucky’s head. “I know you do.”

Bucky’s breathing evens out shortly after and Steve’s soon follows the same, flesh twined with metal, the only sound in the med lab their quiet, untroubled breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also SHOUT OUT TO THE STRANGER BY APROFESSORSTALE THAT YOU ALL SHOULD GO REEEEEAD. HOLLA. I was going to link it in to the word but I have no idea how to do that coding and I get along about as well as fire and ice I am telling you. Ha ha Bobby and John. Whoa hey Bobby-John. Two references in one note bitch I'm fabulous. [/pomeranian fluff picture]


	22. The future's in our hands and we will never be the same again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MGR4U7W1dZU - "Things We Lost In The Fire" by Bastille

“You ready?” Bucky asks softly from the entryway behind him.

Steve stares out at the city from the dark entertainment room for a few more moments, the sky early morning gray and the city frozen and quiet under the ice and snow. “Yeah,” he replies quietly, turning away from the city to look over at Bucky instead where he’s standing by the entryway frame, black duffel bag at his feet matching his black pants, shirt, and jacket.

Bucky offers him a smile, and Steve smiles back, walking over to him. “Yeah, I’m ready,” Steve repeats. Bucky pulls him in gently by the back of his neck above his scarf for a kiss.

“Alright then, let’s go,” Bucky says, still quiet, looking up at Steve for a moment and Steve at him before Bucky reaches down to pick up the duffel and turns to cross the living room, heading for the door. Steve follows behind him, shield on his back.

He turns his head back at the door to take one last look at the dark apartment, the view out the windows, and towards the bedroom before he closes the door behind him, following Bucky into the elevator and not looking back again.

\--

“Here,” Natasha offers them both ear comms as soon as they exit the elevator into the parking garage. Steve and Bucky slip them in, Clint’s voice filling their ears as soon as they do.

“ _Why do **I** always have to be the decoy?_ ” Steve can hear Clint’s frown in his voice and cracks a small smile.

“ _Because someone needs to look after Tony, obviously_ ,” Bruce replies over the secure line from wherever he is. He’d been all too happy to pull one over on Ross and the whole Government in general.

Tony scoffs. “ _It’s bad enough that I’m letting **Barton** tag along in the passenger seat_ ,” Tony replies, “ _I don’t need a babysitter_ ,” he finishes in a grumble.

“ _Ms. Potts said otherwise_ ,” Bruce replies smoothly, the sound of a teasing smile in his voice.

“And you don’t want to get on _her_ bad side do you,” Bucky chimes in as they both follow Natasha over to two Corvette Stingrays, one red, one yellow.

“I’ve got Steve and James,” Natasha announces with a smirk, cutting off Tony’s indignant reply and unlocking the red Corvette’s door, pulling it open.

Tony scoffs again. “ _I’m perfectly capable of driving around the city in a black Corvette - **on my own** \- without getting into any trouble. I wouldn’t be doing anything to upset Pepper_ ,” Tony replies.

“ _Uh-huh_ ,” Bucky replies with a smirk, catching a second set of keys that Natasha tosses to him over the roof of the yellow Corvette and unlocking the driver’s side door. “Because getting-into-trouble _isn’t_ your middle name,” Bucky says, pulling the door open and slipping into the driver’s seat.

“ _It isn’t!_ ” Tony snips back indignantly while Clint snickers over the line. Tony says something none of them can quite catch but they hear Clint’s squawk and indignant, “ _You take that back!_ ” loud and clear.

Bucky unlocks the other door before closing his own and shoving the duffel back into the small space behind Steve’s seat. Steve pulls his door open and slips into the passenger’s side, closing it behind him before pulling his hat out of his jacket pocket and slipping it on. Bucky does the same before he slides the key into the ignition. “We ready?” Bucky asks into the comm.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Clint replies, “ _The first team is following us around like a lost puppy, not subtly might I add. The second team of Ross’ men are still lying in wait outside the Tower_.”

“ _Wait for my single, then head to the rendezvous point_ ,” Natasha instructs, the red Corvette backing out of its parking space and heading for the garage’s far end exit, turning right and pulling out onto the street a moment later.

“Where’s Sam and Thor?” Steve asks into his own comm, resting back against his seat while they wait.

“ _Sam is with me_ ,” Bruce replies, “ _And he says ‘hi’_.”

“ _And Thor’s caught up in London_ ,” Clint replies, “ _Should be here in a few hours_.”

Bucky reaches up and taps his comm to turn off the voice transmitter and Steve does the same a moment later, looking over at Bucky curiously.

Bucky leans over across the console and Steve meets him in the middle, parting his lips to let Bucky’s tongue slip into his mouth during the kiss, the fingers of Bucky’s right hand sliding into the back of Steve’s hair and tugging gently while the other, leather glove covered hand comes up to grip the side of Steve’s neck.

Steve’s hands slide up Bucky’s arms to grip his biceps and Bucky pulls back a little with another quick kiss, smirking at Steve. “Is it weird that this car kinda turns me on,” Bucky says, and Steve blinks, slightly quirking a brow with a wry twist to his lips. Bucky smirks back at him, slowly sliding his left hand down from the side of Steve’s neck over his chest and between his legs, setting his palm flat against the leather of Steve’s seat between Steve’s thighs. “I want to do so many things to you in this car,” Bucky says lowly, face still close to Steve’s and breath hot on Steve’s mouth and chin.

Steve’s eyes drop to Bucky’s lips for a moment before going back up to his eyes and they both lean forward again, mouths crashing and Steve groaning into Bucky’s mouth as Bucky fucks his tongue into Steve’s. Steve spreads his legs a little as Bucky’s left hand slides down the seat towards the ‘v’ of them and he grinds his wrist into Steve’s crotch.

Steve lets out a harsh breath into Bucky’s mouth and Bucky slides his hand up to rub Steve’s cock roughly through his jeans while he pulls back to move down and suck a bruise into the side of Steve’s neck. Steve leans his head back against the headrest, breaths rough and almost loud in the quiet space of the car. He pushes Bucky back into his own seat after a moment with hands at his shoulders and half follows, straddling the middle console while reaching down and rubbing Bucky through his own pants, getting a groan out of him in return while Steve bites at his jaw.

“- _arnes_.”

“- _teve_.”

“ ** _James_**.”

Steve pulls back and Bucky groans in annoyance, tapping his comm as he pants quietly. “ _What_ ,” he snaps into it.

“ _Head out. You two can fuck each other later_ ,” Natasha replies, smirk obvious in her tone like she knows _exactly_ what they were just doing.

“How do you know we were fucking,” Bucky grumbles back, watching Steve a little forlornly as he slides back into his own seat.

“ _Because I know what you sound like when you do it_ ,” Natasha replies. And yup, she’s _definitely_ smirking.

Tony chokes on something over the comms while Clint bursts out laughing.

Bucky sighs and Steve buckles his seat belt with a brief grin, readjusting himself in his pants before Bucky does the same, turning the key in the ignition and buckling his own seatbelt with a flat look when Steve raises an eyebrow at him, mouthing “ _Killjoy_ ,” at Steve before shifting the car into gear.

“ _Barnes, you better not have gotten spunk on my leather seats_ ,” Tony says warningly.

“Who says spunk anymore,” Bucky grumbles back before smirking, leaning down to lick the center of the steering wheel and making sure to make extra graphic noise and a loud, filthy moan while doing it.

“ _I don’t even want to know what you just did_ ,” Tony says flatly and Steve laughs, turning his comm back on.

“Probably not,” Steve replies with a grin, and Bucky smirks smugly before backing the car out of the parking space, shifting it into drive and heading up to the Tower’s far exit.

“ _Just **keep** the damn thing_ ,” Tony replies, mock offended.

“Why _thank you_ , Tony,” Bucky replies mock sweetly, smirk turning into a grin as he looks both ways up and down the street before pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket and slipping them on as he pulls out into the traffic. Steve pulls out his own and slips them on as well. “If I’d known all it took to get you to give me one of your cars was put my bodily fluids on it I would have done it ages ago.”

“ ** _I hate you_** ,” Tony replies before proceeding to hum AC/DC loudly into the comms.

Bucky grins like he won something before smiling bright over at Steve over the top of his sunglasses and Steve smiles back, laughing. Bucky joins him and their laughter fills the space of the car.

\--

“All three chips?” Sam asks.

“All three chips,” Hill confirms, seated to Fury’s right at the head of the table in the bunker hidden in the old dam, “Once the helicarriers reach three thousand feet they’ll triangulate with the Insight satellites and become fully operational, weapons and all.”

They’re all silent for a moment before Clint asks, “The World Security Council?”

“Natasha, Hill, and I will handle them,” Fury replies, “You just focus on swapping out the chip in the second helicarrier.”

Clint nods and Fury looks at Steve, who’s sat at the other end of the table with Bucky to his right. “We’ll stick to the plan we roughly came up with before. Cap,” Fury signals, leaning back in his chair to let Steve take over.

Steve nods, sitting up a little straighter. “Sam and I will take Helicarrier One while The Hulk and Thor draw away the fire,” Steve starts, Sam, Bruce, and Thor all nodding in agreement when he looks at them, “Bucky and Coulson will take the Triskelion control room. Coulson, you _can_ work the computers?” Coulson nods from his seat to Fury’s left and Steve looks at Bucky, “You can keep the room clear.” Bucky grins something sharp and dangerous, and to anyone else it might be terrifying, but it just makes Steve smile. He looks out at the others as he continues, “Clint will take Helicarrier Two and Tony will take Three. If anyone needs any help, act accordingly, but the chips come first. Everyone understand?”

Everyone nods, Bruce speaking up after a moment. “Ross and his men?” he asks, expression unreadable.

“Give’em hell,” Steve replies, and Bucky adds in, “This is war. If they die, they die,” expression as serious as it’s ever been, and for a moment Steve could believe he’s back in the war room with Colonel Philips, Peggy, and the Howling Commandos. Steve looks around at the others for a moment before looking back at Bruce, giving a small nod of agreement. “I’m not asking you to go kill him or his men,” Steve starts, and Bruce’s eyes shift back to him from Bucky, “But I also know war doesn’t pick and choose who should live and who should die. Whatever happens will happen, that’s the only guarantee.”

Bruce nods after a moment, expression solemn and the others all glance at each other before looking back at Steve.

“Let’s get ready,” Steve announces.

Everyone rises out of their seats after Steve, Bucky still the first to follow.

\--

Coulson corners Steve where he’s standing six feet away from Tony, watching the sparks fly as he works on Steve’s shield. Coulson’s holding a duffel bag and another shield that’s painted perfectly like the original used to be, and he offers them to Steve with that same polite smile he uses on everyone, softening at the edges when Steve takes them. He hefts up the shield experimentally to test the weight before looking at Coulson.

“It won’t take as many hits as the original, it’s not made of vibranium,” Coulson says, glancing over at where Tony’s working before looking back at Steve, “But it will get the job done.”

Steve nods, looking back down at it for a moment. He runs his fingers over the colors before looking back up, feeling a little vulnerable and not entirely sure what to do with it in the face of someone who isn’t Bucky. “Thank you,” he settles on, though it doesn’t really cover the emotions running through his chest.

Coulson’s smiles goes a little more honest before he nods. “It was my pleasure, Steve,” he replies before turning and leaving Steve to his thoughts.

Steve looks back down at the shield once more before looking over at Tony, who sits back after a few minutes and turns his equipment off, pushing his Iron Man mask up over his forehead and looking over at Steve with a thumbs up. Steve’s lips quirk up slightly before he walks over and takes the shield from Tony with another, “Thank you.”

Tony just grins and Steve goes to get changed, duffel on his shoulder and colorful shield held in his left hand, original in his right.

“Oh, wait! Steve!” Tony calls out. Steve stops and turns back around.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Tony says, and Steve raises his head slightly at the look on his face.

\--

Bucky rotates his left shoulder where his old-new blue uniform jacket’s sleeve has been removed, feeling a little exposed and a little surreal. He’d decided to dress in the uniform Coulson had made for him that he wore on Halloween, like Steve had, but the sleeve had to go and now whenever he looks at it it’s liking seeing the past and present at the same time, some weird sense of deja vu hitting him in a wave with every glance.

He lets out a sigh before raising his head back up, freezing in place ten feet from the hidden base’s entrance because Steve is there with his back to him, sunlight bouncing off of his edges and the red and blue of the shield on his back, helmet in his right hand with his old shield on his left forearm, hands at his sides. For a moment, Bucky’s back on a mountain top in the alps watching Steve stare down at a train track. He still cuts a figure that Bucky has both a hard and easy time believing is _all Steve_.

He shakes his head slightly, and walks over. “You ready for this?” he asks, coming to a stop at Steve’s left and glancing over at him. Steve’s lips quirk up in a smirk and he looks back at Bucky, angling his head slightly.

“Getting cold feet, Sergeant?” Steve asks, teasing in his eyes.

Bucky scoffs, rotating his left shoulder again as he looks out at the cars parked twenty feet ahead with their varying group, discussing the finer details of their missions amidst the red, yellow, and black glistening in the sunlight. “As if,” he replies, smirking back over at Steve.

Steve grins and Bucky grins back, jostling Steve’s left shoulder with his right.

“Are you comfortable with it?” Steve asks a little quieter after a few moments, so the conversation is just between them, and Bucky rotates his left shoulder once, the red of the star gone and the only thing left is the etched in outline. His eyes drop down to Steve’s shield before looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he replies, letting out a long breath that feels like it holds things that run deeper and longer than most things left in him, things he can finally let go, “Yeah. I’m good. Are you?”

Steve’s eyes go down to the shield on his left forearm and he brings it up, it’s blank surface reflecting the sunlight, an empty star etched into the middle like Bucky’s arm, red gone. His eyes move to Bucky’s left shoulder before finding his face, smiling something small, eyes just as deep as the things Bucky finally let go. Steve’s finally let them go too. “Yeah,” Steve replies, lowering his shield back to his side and smiling at Bucky, “Yeah. I’m good, too.”

Bucky smiles back before Steve’s expression sobers and his own follows suit. “There’s something I need to tell you, if we survive this,” Steve says.

Bucky looks at him for a moment, eyebrows pulling together a little before Tony calls out, “Alright! We all set?” already in his armor, interrupting before Bucky can ask what it is Steve wants to tell him.

“As we’ll ever be,” Hill replies, standing next to one of the black cars.

He feels Steve stand a little straighter when everyone looks at him and does the same, his own eyes going to Steve as he waits for the signal.

Steve reaches up to the slip the helmet over his head and Bucky hears him let out a quiet breath when he gets the strap done into place. “Alright. Let’s move out,” Steve announces, and everyone starts moving. Bucky stays next to him for a moment longer, just absorbing everything before he moves forward. He turns around at the passenger door of one of the black cars, Coulson already in the driver’s seat, when Steve calls his name.

“I want that stupid back!” Steve calls out, still standing where Bucky left him.

Bucky snorts, giving Steve a salute with a grin before slipping into the passenger seat.

He watches Steve’s shrinking figure in the rearview mirror. Steve's eyes are locked on the car as he heads over to Sam, watching it take off down the dirt road to head back into the city.

“It’s an honor working with you, Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson says, with a little more open of a polite smile aimed in his direction.

Bucky looks over at Coulson, smiling something close to a grin and honest. “You, too,” Bucky says, and he means it, “Now let’s get this war over with.”

Coulson nods and pushes the car a little faster.


	23. Time to escape the clutches of a name - W A R

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdN-5wHA3p8 "Escape" by Thirty Seconds To Mars / https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToGnkBkySSA "War" by Poets of the Fall (This whole entire story's theme song omg)
> 
> \+ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGeXD2Sq_A8 "Vox Populi" by Thirty Seconds To mars
> 
>  
> 
> THIS IS IT GUYS. Wow. This is the longest thing I've ever written. AND IT'S COMPLETED TOO WOW. Well mostly. I might write some oneshots for it because this story is my babe and I love writing for it. But the main story arc is over. And you guys have been awesome I'm kind of blown away. And everyone needs to BOW DOWN TO APROFESSORSTALE/GINA because she like. What was it you said. [/copypastes] "iT WAS YOUR IDEA I JUST PUSHED YOU OFF A CLIFF AND HANDED YOU THE IDEA AS A PARACHUTE"  
> Seriously best way to word anything and so accurate.  
> BUT YEAH. I. This wouldn't be nearly as awesome if she didn't stop me from crashing and burning and helping me fix so many things so send her your praise and worship and read her story The Stranger because it's awesome I'm telling you. Slow organic relationship build with hilarious moments and angst and pain and adorable and super soldiers and Clint's face and monsters and pancakes and spiral syrup and hilarious news reporters send so much help omg.
> 
> THANK YOU. Everyone. For reading this and letting me know what you think whenever it struck you to do so. Because that's awesome, seriously. I'm just. I'm a mess. Yup. And I know some of you like powered through the whole thing recently and just WHAT. HOW. THAT'S CRAZY. But really awesome and just fjkdslfjdsl. _I'm a wreck._  
>  And also, I know I said this would have a happy ending and it does. But it's not. A typical one? I don't know. I like the way it came to a close. And it is happy but not at the same time, which kind of sums up this whole story I think so I think it works. And Gina liked it which is like at least 12% of what matters (did you see what I did there [/eyebrow waggle]) But yeah. I just. Thank you. So much. Seriously. For reading and freaking out over things with me because I know I yelled at a bunch of you about my feelings fjdskl.
> 
> Anyway. Let's get this war on the road (I'm not always funny I'm so sorry).

He slips the domino mask on in the car on the way to the Triskelion. He doesn’t want to broadcast who he is to the world, just Hydra.

Coulson turns the radio on low to fill the silence on their way and Bucky ends up tapping his foot against the footwell to the beat, catching a small smile on the corner of Coulson’s lips.

Bucky smirks as he looks out the passenger window, ducking his head a little when they enter onto the city streets so that his bangs block most of his face from the pedestrian’s views.

\--

Sneaking in is easier than he thought it would be. He spots Natasha infiltrating the World Security Council and sends a smirk in her direction. When she spots him her eyes narrow slightly before she’s schooling her borrowed face into a prim expression, twitching her middle finger just slight enough in Bucky’s direction when she turns that Bucky will catch it.

He grins as he sticks to the shadows with Coulson, entering the Triskelion through one of the side maintenance doors.

They only have to take out and tie up a few S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel on their way to the hall closest to the control room. Bucky keeps a watch on the stairwell leading up to the locked door while Coulson works on rerouting access codes and rewiring the locking mechanism.

The lock on the door finally switches from red to green and Coulson pulls it open, slipping out into the the hall with Bucky following right behind, a gun in each hand.

The hall they step into is empty, but Bucky keeps his ears open for any sound of approaching steps as they head down to the one that intersects it, bringing up the rear as Coulson leads the way.

Coulson stops at the end of it and scans the left before peers around the corner to the right, pulling back slowly before turning his head to look at Bucky, who looks back. “Twelve,” Coulson near whispers to him, and Bucky nods, holstering his guns to pull out two knives instead.

Coulson raises his eyebrows a little but doesn’t say anything, gesturing a hand in offering towards the hall when Bucky raises his own back.

Bucky smirks at him before darting around the corner and out into the hall, running down it towards the guards with his enhanced speed. Coulson leans around it a little to watch as he goes, pulling his own gun out and raising it in preparation.

\--

“How was your flight?” Pierce asks, and Natasha replies accordingly.

“It was lovely. The ride here, however,” she leaves off the rest.

Pierce smiles without really smiling - something she’s just as good at - while handing her and the rest of the World Security Council members pins.

“They’re biometrically controlled, and will give you unrestricted access,” Pierce supplies.

Natasha takes it and pins it to her suit jacket, mind going over her options as she follows Pierce down the hall. Hill and Fury should just about be in position.

She keeps her steps steady and measured and pretends she belongs. After all, that’s what she’s good at.

\--

Two of the guards spot him when he’s halfway down the hall and he throws his two knives, embedding them into their throats, blood spurting out and streaking red along the walls as they fall to the ground. The rest all turn as the two go down and Bucky runs in low, pulling the knives out of the two guards that fell first as he passes between them and spins, slashing two more Hydra agents across the throat before kicking the next three’s guns out of their grips, throwing one agent over his shoulder and using the second as a shield when the rest fire, kicking up hard between the seventh man’s legs before stabbing him through the back of his neck when he doubles over from the pain, spinning and elbowing the eighth in the nose with his left arm. He throws the agent he used as a shield at the last four agents in formation outside the door, clearing the way for Coulson to slip inside and barely watching as he goes.

The agents he tossed over his shoulder and elbowed try coming up from behind him and Bucky drops, sweeping his leg out to knock them both to the floor, quickly shifting over just enough to stab both knives through one of their eye sockets each and leaving them there, pulling his own guns out and shooting the last four just after they’ve struggled to get up out from under the dead agent’s body he tossed at them.

He pushes through the control room door as soon as he’s finished and jogs up the short stairs to the computer platform, eyes quickly scanning over the four agent’s bodies scattered around on the floor before looking up at Coulson.

“That was impressive,” Coulson says without looking at him, fingers flying across the keys.

“Who do you think trained Natasha,” Bucky says, coming up to Coulson’s right shoulder to look down at the screens.

“That explains quite a lot,” Coulson replies back calmly.

Bucky cracks a grin at Coulson’s small smile before his eyes dart to a screen on the right. “We need to worry about incoming?” Bucky asks.

Coulson presses a button a little off to the side and says, “Wait for it.”

Bucky waits for a few moments before the speakers crackle to life with sound.

“This is Nick Fury,” Fury starts, broadcasting from somewhere else inside the Triskelion, “S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated by Hydra. The person next to you, to your left, to your right, the one giving you your commands or taking commands from you could be an enemy. I know a lot of you respect me and I know a lot of you don’t, but you can trust me when I say that S.H.I.E.L.D. and the safety of the world have always been my number one priority,” Fury says, “So respect me, or don’t, but right now the world’s safety is in jeopardy. Hydra plans to launch three heavily armed helicarriers into the air to take out their opposition through a satellite targeting system, all with the push of a button.” Fury pauses, taking a moment before going on, “I know I’ve kept things from all of you. I did so because I thought it was right, and I _was aware_ of this project. But it wasn’t intended for this, and it must be shut down.

“I ask that if you are an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. you do what you’ve always done, what you’ve been _trained_ to do, and protect the world,” Fury finishes.

Bucky smirks.

Well, that takes care of that.

\--

Fury turns off the mic, glancing over at Hill who has two guns trained on the two short rows of technicians in the room. She looks back.

“A little much?” he asks, smirking slightly.

“Just right,” Hill replies, lips quirking up a little before she focuses back on the technicians. “Now agents, whose team are you playing on?”

No one makes a move to take either of them down.

\--

Steve and Sam edge along the far building of the quinjet tarmac, eyes scanning the area.

There’s agents running around everywhere, which means Fury’s given his speech. Steve can just see Ross and his men on the other end of the strip towards a treeline surrounded by tanks, humvees, all sorts of weaponry.

“We’re in position,” Steve says into his ear comm, “Whenever you’re ready, bring the rage and thunder.”

“ _As you wish, my friend!_ ” Thor replies cheerily before Steve hears a crack of thunder overhead and a loud roar. The clouds turn gray.

\--

“Are you ready for this battle, Banner?” Thor asks, turning to his right to look at his companion.

Bruce looks back, smiling a little as his eyes flash green.

Thor grins in return before raising his hammer up, lightning streaming down as he launches himself into the air.

Thor hears a loud roar from below, and a large blotch of green darts under him, aiming for one of the General’s tanks.

Bullets bounce off of his own armor and flesh from the flight area and he flies over, summoning his lightning. “ _HAVE AT THEE!_ ” he bellows out as he brings the lightning raining down on them.

\--

Steve and Sam take off across the tarmac as soon as most of the soldiers’ attentions are drawn away, only a few noticing them and firing at them when they do.

“Sam!” Steve calls out as he runs across the flight area, dodging gunfire and knocking explosives back with the blank shield on his right forearm when a few get thrown their way. The helicarriers are launching, slowly rising out of the underwater hangar as the extra water cascades down the sides. They need to hurry.

“On it!” Sam calls back as he runs a few feet behind him, jetpack wings spreading before he takes flight with a burst of the built in jets, grabbing the hand Steve stretches above himself once Sam’s airborne and lifting them both up.

Steve looks down as they go, easily spotting The Hulk battling with Ross and his men and Hydra, Thor’s summoned lightning raining down on the tanks.

Sam starts aiming for the top of the helicarrier but swiftly changes direction when Steve yells out, “ _Under!_ ”

Steve looks straight ahead as they approach the helicarrier’s bottom glass dome, air rushing by them as they fly.

“ _Steve?!_ ” Sam yells down to him over the wind.

“ _Throw me!_ ” Steve yells back.

“ _What?!_ ” Sam calls down, expression incredulous even with the goggles on.

“ _Throw me!_ ” Steve orders. He barely picks up Sam saying something about ‘crazy’ before he’s throwing Steve at the underbelly of the helicarrier. Steve raises his right forearm as he goes, tucking himself behind the shield on his arm just before he hits the dome. The glass of it shatters with the force of the impact.

Steve catches hold of a metal railing running the length of the built in catwalk with his right hand inside, catching himself and pulling himself up over the railing.

\--

Clint switches one of the ends of two arrows before firing both, one with an attached wire from his position above the Potomac hangar. The heated end of the corroding fire arrow erodes the glass of the second helicarrier’s bottom dome in an instant while the other arrow’s end splits apart like a grapple, latching against the inside of the glass. He attaches the end of the arrow’s strung wire to his bow and holds on as it reels him up.

Clint holds onto his bow against the outside of the dome as he pulls out a modified glass cutter, cutting a hole in the glass and letting it fall to the Potomac before he slips inside. “Thanks, Tony,” he mutters to himself with a smirk, unhooking the wire connected to his bow and making a dash up for the catwalk.

He’s just started moving towards the center console along the catwalk when a bullet ricochets off of the handrail to his right and he spins around, quickly firing an exploding arrow back. More agents follow the first and he lets out a sigh.

“Great,” he grumbles to himself, moving to dodge more gunfire while firing off three arrows at once.

\--

“JARVIS,” Tony says, flying up towards the third helicarrier, “How much do you wanna bet I’m going to get lucky and that dome is going to be empty.”

“ _Knowing your luck, Sir?_ ” JARVIS replies, and Tony scoffs, using a hand repulsor to blast a hole through the glass dome before flying in.

“I get lucky sometimes,” Tony snipes back.

He’s immediately assaulted by gunfire and he can practically hear JARVIS taking a breath to say ‘ _I told you so, Sir_ ’.

“Don’t. Say it,” Tony says before JARVIS can, sending a repulsor blast up towards the row of agents all fire at him from along the catwalk.

“ _As you wish, Sir_ ,” JARVIS replies, sounding just a hint wry.

\--

Sam flies in to land beside him on the catwalk. “Man,” he starts, looking back at the hole in the glass before looking over at Steve, eyebrows raised above his goggles, “Crazy.”

Steve grins, “Done crazier.”

Sam snorts, repeating, “ _Crazy_ ,” while shaking his head, tapping into his comm. “Guys?”

“ _Helicarrier Two is almost secure_ ,” Clint reports back, sounding out of breath.

“ _As is one_ ,” Tony reports, sounds of repulsor blasts in the background.

“ _Control room is secure_ ,” Bucky reports as well.

“That was easy,” Sam says.

“ _They have a button for that now_ ,” Coulson replies with a slightly teasing tone.

Steve hears Bucky snort before his ears pick up sound coming from nearby under The Hulk’s roars outside and he turns, Sam’s expression going alert as he follows Steve’s line of sight.

“We got company?” Sam asks, and Steve nods.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, sharing a look with Sam.

Steve pulls his shield off of his back and Sam pulls out his guns, each getting into position.

Twenty agents round the two corners that empty out onto the catwalk at the other end, guns training on the two of them. Thor bellows out, “ _HOW DARE YOU CATCH FIRE TO THE CAPE OF THE SON OF ODIN_ ,” into the comms, a flash of lightning streaking down from the sky outside and Steve and Sam charge, rain suddenly coming down in torrents outside as the Hydra agents fire at them. It’s appropriate.

\--

Pierce, along with the World Security Council notices the attack almost immediately after they’ve reached the top floor and everything goes sideways.

Hill practically flies out of her place in the shadows opposite the door where the strike team enters the room, pulling their guns on the World Security Council, and Natasha and Hill take them all down.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Natasha says mock sincerely, pulling the digital face alteration device off of her face with steady fingers while she keeps her gun trained on Pierce with her other hand, “Did I step on your moment?”

Pierce’s lips thin and Natasha quirks a small smile, Hill’s gun trained on him as well.

Fury chooses that moment to enter the room, and Natasha will never admit it but he makes her feel steadier. She catches Hill’s posture straightening just slightly out of the corner of her eye and can tell that she gets it too.

“It’s time to end this,” Fury says.

“You and your ragtag army?” Pierce asks with a mild smile, phone in his hand.

Fury’s eye narrows and Pierce’s thumb pad taps the screen of his phone. One of the council members goes down with a blaze of light on their chest and Natasha’s eyes widen fractionally, adrenaline coursing through her veins, hyper aware of the pin on her suit jacket.

Hill fires a bullet into Pierce’s side just before his thumb pad hits the screen again and Fury quickly pulls his own gun out to finish the job. Pierce goes down, landing heavy on the floor.

Fury walks over to retrieves Pierce’s phone, a barely audible, “ _Hail Hydra_ ,” passing his lips on his dying breath while Fury pauses before standing back up, unlocking the biometric coding of the pins. Natasha calmly slips it off, dropping it to the floor and taking a quiet breath.

“Remind me to never accept gifts from strangers, no matter how acceptable they may seem,” Hill jokes with a straight face.

Fury looks back down at Pierce for a long moment before looking out the floor’s windows at the slowly rising helicarriers and lightning darting down from the sky. “Let’s move," he says, heading for the stairs.

Natasha and Hill turn to follow, leaving what’s left of the speechless World Security Council behind.

They run into another strike team heading up up the stairwell on their way down, probably at Pierce’s command, and get cornered, each aiming their weapons and firing.

\--

“ _Coulson. I need you up here_ ,” Fury orders into the comms and Coulson stands, sending a look at Bucky.

“I’ve got it,” Bucky replies, and Coulson nods before heading out of the control room.

Bucky sits down in the chair Coulson had been occupying and looks over the screens, the second helicarrier lighting up green.

“ _Helicarrier Two is a go_ ,” Clint says into the comms.

“Got it,” Bucky replies back, eyes briefly darting to the third helicarrier on the screen before rising to the first.

“Five minutes,” Bucky reports into the comms, eyes flashing to the hall outside the room’s security footage, spotting the four agents headed his way.

He gets up out of the chair and pulls out his two guns, aiming them at the four agents who charge into the room and firing. They drop to the ground like so much weight.

Bucky turns back around and looks at the monitor, eyes going back to the first helicarrier. He keeps watching the screens.

\--

“Copy,” Steve replies into his comm, throwing the colored and uncolored shields simultaneously and taking out five more Hydra agents.

Sam takes down another three and Steve knocks six more over the sides of the railings after catching the returning shields, listening to the agent’s bones break as they land at odd angles on the metal below.

Sam turns to him. “Chip?” he asks, panting lightly and all twenty agents taken care of.

“Chip,” Steve confirms, heading back over to the control center of the dome on the catwalk while Sam stays at the entrance to the halls, keeping watch for any more incoming agents and standing guard.

“ _Helicarrier Three is **mine**_ ,” Tony reports with an auditory smirk. Steve catches a glimpse of him flying down to the ground to assist Hulk with Ross.

Steve stops at the center console and taps a button, the glass encasing the discs sliding open and the chip holders sliding down, bared to Steve. He pulls one of the chips out and sets it aside, opening up the pouch on the left side of his belt holding the replacement and pulling it out.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky says, and Steve pauses, tapping his comm to switch it to a secure line.

“Buck?” Steve asks, lowering his voice a little.

“ _I could do it_ ,” Bucky says quietly into the comm, and Steve freezes. “ _All I’d have to do is push a button_.”

\--

Bucky stares down at the screen, eyes shifting to the button on its left side.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says softly into his ear, and Bucky glances back at the first helicarrier on the screen.

“I could get rid of all of Hydra,” Bucky says, fingers tightening into fists on top of the computer console, “I could get rid of _all_ of them, Steve.”

Steve’s silent over the comms for a few moments before letting out a quiet breath. “ _But we wouldn’t be **free** , Buck_,” Steve says quietly into his ear, “ _We’d still have to run. If not from Hydra then from our friends. They would never accept us doing something like that. They can’t_.”

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, leaning back in the chair. He opens them up and glances back down at the screen and the countdown. Two minutes. He tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the control room.

The door to the room flies open and he pulls his gun off of the console in a near blur of movement and shoots the two intruding Hydra agents without looking, the sound of their bodies dropping to the floor and the door banging shut mingling with Steve’s quiet breaths in his ear.

“Yeah,” Bucky concedes, “But we wouldn’t be running from _Hydra_ anymore. We wouldn’t have to keep looking over our shoulders, waiting for them to take us back or wipe our minds. Make us forget,” he continues, voice going quieter, “We wouldn’t have to be _afraid_. Live in a glorified _cage_. Because that’s what the Tower is, Steve, no matter how comfortable.” Steve doesn’t say anything, Bucky knows _he knows_ that. “And Hydra would never hurt anyone again,” he says, “Especially not like they did to us.”

Steve’s quiet again and Bucky closes his eyes, just listening to him breathe. “They’d pay for what they’ve done and wouldn’t be able to do any worse. We’d be free from them. For good,” Bucky says.

\--

Steve closes his eyes, letting out a quiet breath before opening them and looking down at the chip in his left hand, thinking.

“ _No more Hydra_ ,” Bucky continues after a moment, and something in Steve’s chest squeezes a little more at the thought. There’s only about a minute left. “ _We’re going to Hell anyway, Steve_ ,” Bucky says, “ _Might as well take them all with us. **Every single damn one of them**_.”

“And Natasha?” Steve asks quietly, and Bucky goes silent, “ _Natalia_. Could you give her up?” Could _he_ give up his connection with _Sam_? Because they’ll be hunted if they do this, both of them, by their friends, because this is something _the Avengers_ can’t condone, they both know it. “You’d be stuck with just me again, Buck. And me, you,” Steve continues, “Could we live like that again?” he asks, face pinching slightly. He knows they could, but they’d have to give up and bury parts of themselves all over again. They’d have to stop being most of what they’ve been able to become with the help of their _friends_.

“ _I could_ ,” Bucky finally replies, voice quiet in Steve’s ear, “ _I **can**. If it’s for you Steve. If it’s **with you** , I can do anything_.”

Now it’s Steve turn to go silent, heart in his throat, because he knows Bucky _means_ it, and deep down he knows for him it’s the _same_.

“ _I’m ready_ ,” Bucky says after a moment before asking, “ _What do you wanna do, Steve?_ ” when Steve still hasn’t said anything. Steve knows he’ll do whatever Steve decides. He’ll live in the gilded cage of the Tower with Steve, will spend the rest of his life fighting and looking over his shoulder at Steve’s side. He’ll settle for this comforting life at the cost of Hydra getting away. _Again_.

The choice is _Steve’s_ now.

Steve closes his eyes again, listens to the rain and lightning outside, the sound of Sam’s heartbeat down at the other end of the catwalk and his questioning, “ _Steve? What’s the hold up, man?_ ” He listens to The Hulk roaring down below as the helicarrier steadily gets higher into the air and the sound of Tony’s repulsors blasting as he fights.

He’d have to leave them behind, _all_ of them. Probably New York, even. The continent. But they’re small things compared to what he’d have to leave of _himself_ behind. Bucky might have already mostly done so. May have _years_ ago. Back during the war and after Zola and Steve didn’t see. Steve doesn’t know. Bucky’s always been Bucky to him, even when he wasn’t. Steve knows he’ll always be Steve to _Bucky_ , too, even if he’s not.

“I want…” Steve trails off quietly, biting the inside of his lower lip as he listens to Bucky’s quiet breaths in his ear. It’s comforting. It’s always comforting.

He opens his eyes. Thirty seconds. “ _I want this to be **over**_ ,” Steve says with _feeling_ , a decades old tiredness in his heart and in his head that feels like it’s been there for _centuries_. He’s so tired of this battle. His eyes drop down to the chip before he reaches up, plugging it in.

\--

“ _I want to go **home**_ ,” Steve says almost urgently in his ear, sounding so _old_ and so _**young**_.

As soon as the first helicarrier lights up green on the monitor, Bucky recalibrates the targets, adding in all of Hydra before pressing the button on the left to fire the helicarriers, standing up after and running, jumping over the steps down to the floor and out of the control room, door banging into the wall with the force behind him. He heads for the Triskelion’s flight deck, pulling the uniform coat off as he goes and not looking back as it falls to the floor.

\--

Steve hears all three of the helicarrer’s guns fire three times before they start firing at each other and Steve stumbles slightly, grabbing onto the railing to his right.

“That’s our cue!” Sam shouts over, metallic wings spreading as he runs over to Steve. Steve turns around to face him. “Time to go!” Sam half yells over the increasing explosions and gunfire.

“ _Sam. Go_ ,” Steve orders, looking at him.

“ _What?_ But you-” Sam cuts off, eyes slowly widening as he listens to something Steve can barely hear in his ear. He doesn’t need to be able to make it out to know what’s being said. “ _ **Steve**_ ,” Sam says gravely, wide eyes focusing back on him, “ _What did you **do** …?_”

Steve lets out a breath, eyes on Sam. “I’m _**tired**_ , Sam,” he says, and he sounds it even to his _own ears_. Steve lifts the colored shield off of his back, bringing it down in front of him and turning it over to look at the colors. He traces his gloved fingertips down across the red, blue, and white, the star before holding it out to the side with his left hand over the catwalk, letting it drop to the glass dome below.

Sam’s eyes follow it, expression going pinched as he looks back up at Steve. “But that _doesn’t mean you can_ -” Sam cuts off when the helicarrier tilts heavily to the side and a large hole is blown into the bottom of the glass dome below, both looking down to watch the colored shield fall to the Potomac below. Steve strikes forward quickly during the distraction, ramming his blank shield into one of Sam’s wings and ripping it off with a hand before shoving Sam over the railing in a swift motion, Sam yelling as he falls.

Steve watches Sam long enough to make sure his parachute opens in the rain before unbuckling his helmet, letting it drop to the metal grating of the catwalk at his feet before tearing the Captain America uniform off at some of its seams, letting the large torn sections fall next to the helmet, leaving him in only the black body suit he put on underneath.

“Buck,” Steve says into his comm, still on the private line.

“ _I’m here_ ,” Bucky says, and Steve catches sight of a quinjet coming up to hover just below the hole in the bottom of the dome, “ _I’ll catch you_.”

Steve vaults himself over the railing without hesitation and lets himself drop through the hole in the dome, landing on top of the quinjet - slick with rain - and rolling towards the pilot area. He quickly crawls in on Bucky’s side through the hole where the side window must have been that Bucky tore off, shifting over Bucky’s lap to sit in the second pilot seat next to him, the jet taking off out from underneath the falling helicarrier to fly through the smoke and fire of Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s falling wreckage. Steve taps his ear comm and Bucky does the same, muting their voice transmitters as the voices of the others fill both of their ears.

“ _Bucky! Steve! What have you **done**?!_ ” Tony yells into them, his suit probably tracking the extra gunfire and new, near instantaneous deaths all around the world.

“ _James!_ ” Natasha yells.

“ _Barnes! What the hell?!_ ” Clint adds.

Bucky aims the quinjet towards a large, broken off falling piece of helicarrier wreckage with a look at Steve, and Steve nods, crossing over the middle console to let Bucky wrap his right arm around his waist and pull him close.

\--

“Steve…?” Sam asks into his comm, voice pained. Tony’s hovering teen feet in the air to his left where he’d been about to head to the first helicarrier for Steve after catching Sam and his failing parachute.

“Steve! Bucky!” Tony yells, voice coming distraught out of the suit as they watch the quinjet aimed at the wreckage go up in a burst of fire and light when it hits.

Natasha, Hill, Coulson, and Fury are gathered with them as well, every single Hydra agent dead on the ground in a scattering of bodies throughout the compound. Bruce and Thor quickly walk over, going over and around the bodies with Bruce holding up his stretched out pants with a hand, all eyes searching the sky for any sign of two falling figures.

Everyone’s silent, waiting for any reply.

“My friends?” Thor asks, expression and voice mournful. He’s already gained and lost so much.

Clint comes over and looks at Natasha, expression pained and grim.

She looks back, her usual, blank mask cracking before she forces it back into place. Her eyes go back to the sky.

\--

“Think they bought it?” Bucky asks, eyes tracking the quinjet’s falling pieces as they fall into the Potomac.

 

_He’d held his shield up with his right forearm as Bucky pulled them both out of the side opening of the quinjet Steve crawled through with his left arm just as the jet was about to hit the wreckage, both falling through the air towards the small forest opposite the Triskelion as the quinjet blew on impact._

_Steve quickly slid his shield off of his own forearm and onto Bucky’s offered metal one mid fall, and Bucky used both his arm and the shield to soften their impact when they fell through the trees and crash landed into the hard dirt ground below. Bucky had grunted with the force of it, metal arm whirring as he pushed himself up a few moments after, Steve struggling to follow suit, staggering a little once they were both on their feet._

 

They’ll need a head start, and appearing caught in a blast is a good place to find one.

Steve stands next to Bucky, both soaked, eyes on the ground as they listen silently. Bucky looks up at him after a moment and Steve pulls his comm out of his ear, looking back as he hands it over. It’s worked. And he doesn’t want to hear any more.

Bucky pulls his own out and sets them both into his left palm, arm whirring for a moment before he crushes them both in it, opening his fingers and turning his palm sideways to let the shattered pieces fall to the Earth.

Steve’s eyes follow a drop of rain water sliding down the metal of Bucky’s arm before dropping to the shattered pieces of the comms on the ground. He looks up at Bucky tiredly and Bucky looks back at him just the same, holding his right hand out to Steve.

Steve blinks past the sting at the backs of his eyes and takes Bucky’s hand with his left, listening to Bucky let out a breath a moment before Steve does the same. They both turn and start heading towards the other end of the trees to make their way out of the forest.

\--

“ _Three large, unknown aircrafts were destroyed today mid-afternoon. No one knows the reason or where the aircrafts even came from_ ,” the news woman reports, “ _Investigators are still looking into the event. But more unsettling are the thousands of lives reportedly lost at the exact same moment all across the globe, with no reason and no explainable cause for the single gunshot wound all of them share_ -”

\--

A week later, a warm breath ghosts across his face and he slowly opens his eyes, staring up into wild blue, hair flared out around his head and caught in the afternoon sunlight streaming down at an angle through the window, lighting it up like a halo of gold, blue eyes staring back down at him like lightning.

Bucky leans his head up and presses their lips together, the kiss turning rough as a growl reverberates down passed his throat and into his chest, and he gives one in return.

Over-warm fingers dig into the skin of the side of his ribs and he feels something warm slide down to the sheets piled under them on the floor, bite marks and bruises healing.

His left arm remains free of red paint where it comes up to grip Steve’s right shoulder, Steve’s shield free of it too where it rests against the small bed a few feet away. Always kept within easy distance of either of them.

\--

“ _ **What are you**?!_ ” the man yells in Russian from where he’s cornered at the end of the the abandoned alley, gun dropping from his hand, all of the bullets deflected with Bucky’s left arm.

Neither of them reply and Bucky watches Steve prowl forward, slow and predatory, knife gleaming silver in his right hand.

They haven’t spoken more than the four words they commonly use with each other in six months, not since Steve told him what Tony found out about their genetics. The words they use most often out of the four now are just each other’s names.

“Bucky,” he hears, and he walks forward to join Steve, pulling out a knife of his own

“ _No! Please don’t! I’ll give you anything you **want**!_ ” the man begs.

But people who say that never really do.

\--

The man bleeds red like they do. Somehow it never seemed like that would be the case, even though the man bleeding out at the end of the alley worked in a place that was called _The Red Room_.

“Steve,” he says after, quietly, red painted on each of their arms that hold a knife and his nose pressed into the side of Steve’s neck. His own hair is below his jaw now. He doesn’t think he wants to cut it anymore, he hasn’t decided yet. “ _I love you_ ,” he mouths with his lips against the skin of Steve’s neck in Russian, just above his black turtleneck shirt, his un-bloodied fingers dug into Steve’s long black coat.

Steve leans a little more against him, mouthing the words back on a breath where his lips press into the top of Bucky’s head.

Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have forever to decide.

\--

 

_“Bucky,” Steve had said, sounding as tired and worn as they’ve both been for years, “Tony found something in our genetics.”_

_Bucky was quiet for a few moments, watching him. “What is it?” he’d asked, sounding just as worn and tired himself._

_Steve opened his mouth to say-_

\--

He shakes on the floor in the dark, back pressed to the end of the bed, not making a sound. Bucky’s familiar metal and flesh arms wrap around him from where he sits next to him and Steve feels safe. This is the only place he ever feels safe.

It’s the only place that’s home, the only place that’s ever been home.

He lets out a quiet breath, leaning over into Bucky’s side, and lets the feeling of safety quiet his demons away.

\--

“ _Tony found out that_ -”

\--

They’re both in the back of a quinjet, heavy shackles on their wrists and ankles where they sit together on the row of seats against one of the walls, sad eyes on them from all of their old friends.

Tony says things that Steve tunes out, that Bucky tunes out too, Tony turning away from them after a moment with a rising lilt to the end of his voice when they don’t say anything. Tony heads to the front of the jet, metal suit _clunking_ with each step against the metal of the jet’s floor. It must have been a question.

Steve glances up to finally meet the eyes still on them both and they all turn away. Good. It’ll make it easier to escape if they’re not watching.

Their friends don’t know that they’re not going back to New York ( _they can’t_ ). To the Tower ( _gilded cage_ ). To anywhere they don’t want to go. New York is a part of them, always will be, but it’s not home. Not anymore.

The Winter Soldier - _Bucky_ \- shifts a little closer on the row of seats where he’s sitting next to him, right arm brushing The Soldier’s - _Steve’s_ \- left.

It’s comfort.

It’s home.

\--

“ _we don’t_ -”

\--

They get out of their shackles again ( _always_ ) and quickly take their old friends down in a short and brutal surprise fight. They leave them alive, all unconscious with minor and distracting wounds, and set the quinjet on autopilot. Bucky brushes Natasha’s bangs back with gentle fingers before turning away. As they both are now, that’s the kindest thing they can do.

Bucky presses the button to open the back hatch of the jet and half turns, holding his right hand out to Steve which Steve takes. They both walk to the edge, watching the snow covered alp hills and mountaintops speed by below. They jump, blank shield on Steve’s right forearm and Bucky’s right hand held tight with his left. They’ll never let go.

They land after the mid-level drop into the snow and take off running. Their higher body heats keep them warm on top of the warm clothes they wear and they’ve been trained to work in all the elements.

They run free like wild wolves, holding hands like children through the snow.

No one will shackle them again.

They have people they need to hunt down, if they choose to. They have lazy mornings to spend in sheets on the floor and late nights to spend shaking in remembered pain and fear and getting lost in each other. But those belong to them now, those mornings of lazy days and those nights of pain and fear, those hours spent forgetting and remembering themselves in rough and gentle touches and kisses, because they’re free and together in the ashes of their own lives. Lives that belong to them.

And that’s home.

\--

“ _age_.”

 

_End…?_


End file.
